


WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)

by signal



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 00 Line Antics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Aromantic Character, Fate & Destiny, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Magical Realism, Multimedia, Musical References, Realization, Slice of Life, Tarot, Underage Drinking, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-07-08 05:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 53,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15923792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signal/pseuds/signal
Summary: “That’s the thing,” Donghyuck says, with a coy grin. “It’s in three hours.”“It’s tonight? But... my planned evening study session... my... my meal deal...” Jaemin whines. He hadplans, plans that consisted of Smoked Ham and Cheddar and a gross-but-affective Redbull he could always turn into a Jägerbomb if revision times got tough.“I know this, and I love you.”Or, in which Donghyuck convinces Jaemin to come with him to a Tarot reading, but the advisor's words instigate a weird couple of weeks. Of awkward things that can only be left to fate, and gratuitous musical references.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> directly inspired by this [prompt](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/146872667885/imagine-your-otp-are-friends-who-dare-each-other)! additionally, the funky WWJD? stuff was inspired by all the turn-based RPGs i played as a kid, and also [this really, really great fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13725852). i recommend checking both out!
> 
> in terms of this one however, i kinda reference persona 5's mc personal growth scale:
> 
> **key:**   
>  ATK = attack    
>  DEF = defense   
>  CHR = charisma   
>  GUTS = guts   
>  INT = intelligence
> 
> some notes:  
> (1) this references a LOT of english university aspects, relates to england as a whole really - just goin off my own university experiences!! u_u  
> (2) i taught myself about tarot for this. if it's not entirely correctly, let's just pretend it isjsjdksfj  
> (3) UPDATE: i've been thinking about this since i decided chapter 2 was going the way it went, and i've added the underage drinking tag! despite them being legal to drink in this setting, they're mostly not yet in korea, so!  
> (4) ages in this are sort of mish-mashed together to make for a (hopefully) interesting collection of characters in different settings? 1st years are 01-02 liners, 2nd years are 98-99-00 liners, 3rd years are 97-96 liners and so on if anyone older decides to pop up, as degrees in england are typically 3 years!!
> 
> happy reading!

“Just wondering, but like. When will the sweet release of death take me from whence I came?” 

“Wait until final year. I'm sure we'll both be staring at our dissertations like empty husks.” 

Jaemin’s head hits the table with a worrying thump at this news. Jungwoo, giving him credit, doesn’t look up from his book chapter on Structural Realism. 

Scattered around them, on the library table they’d managed to snag a couple of hours earlier, was books detailed in everything from BA Sociology case studies to the holy grail of International Politics binders. Accompanying that, were three coffee cups and Jaemin’s single vice: a share-packet of Haribo.

They looked a mess, but they weren’t exactly the crowned messiest on the floor at that moment. Earlier on, Jaemin had genuinely seen a girl wandering to the vending machine with something akin to a duvet wrapped around her shoulders, with fluffy slippers to match. He would’ve curled his lip if he didn’t relate so much. (It was four in the afternoon, but also, _finals_.)

“Me too, buddy,” Jungwoo responds, voice devoid of emotion but still peering into the book like it would save his ass.

Semester 1 finals were a bitch. Everyone knew this.

Finals were located at the beginning of the following semester which was completely bizarre, and had thrown Jaemin off immediately back when he was a fresher. First year was hard enough, what with Jaemin spending most of his final days in the lead up to his deadlines pulling all-nighters and staring at various social activist blogs dedicated to the most crucial movements of the past decade in order to commit this history to memory — but he got through the nights, and finals too. But second year… second year was something else —

_Bzzt!_

He’s stunned out of his moping by his phone vibrating next to him. He pushes himself up and grabs at it, watching the screen fade on when its angled toward him.

 

**hyuck ♡** : where are u loser??

**hyuck ♡** : hey

**hyuck ♡** : hey hey heeeeeey

 

Jaemin bites down on a smile, thumb flicking over the keyboard when another comes through.

 

**hyuck ♡** : pay attention to me.. not that i care or anything

 

**jaemin ♡** : omg ur so needy lmao

**jaemin ♡** : 2nd floor library w jungwoo :P

 

**hyuck ♡** : ah...... revision… it’s been a while my old friend

 

**jaemin ♡** :  the very thing!!

 

hyuck ♡: i’m surprisingly close by

**hyuck ♡** : lol ok im coming 2 you. be prepared

 

“Donghyuck is coming, now, apparently? Bee-tee-dubs,” Jaemin murmurs, turning to look up at Jungwoo and rubbing at his eye where it feels smudged from being pressed against the table. Jungwoo raises an eyebrow, shaking his head almost to himself and trying to suppress a smile at the younger’s bemused expression.

“Let me guess: not to come study, right?”

“Nah, I don’t know what he wants but it’s definitely not a study session. He’s fucking gliding through his classes right now. I’d be jealous if I didn’t know about his performance anxiety for standardised testing,” Jaemin grumbles, scrunching his face up a little.

It was a habit he’d picked up from their fresher friend, Jisung, who spends every other weekend in Jaemin’s flat with takeout they definitely can’t afford and whatever B-roll horror movie that’s popped up on Jaemin and Renjun’s shared Netflix suggestions.

“A valid worry,” Jungwoo muses in his eternally soft voice, finally setting his pencil down and pushing the notebook an inch away in favour of his abandoned phone. Jaemin was inclined to agree.

“Oh no, facts, for real, don’t get me wrong here,” Jaemin says, “I just live in a state of perpetual jealousy.”

“ _Ohhhh_. Over Donghyuck?” Jungwoo says, dropping the phone, leaning forward and suddenly interested for reasons Jaemin really couldn’t comprehend at that moment.

He wants to open his mouth, to almost rectify whatever he said, but he’s interrupted by someone with incredible comedic timing —

“NA JAEMIN,” a voice trills from across the room, and Jaemin expects everyone’s hackles to raise at the new, loud noise on the explicitly-marked “L2 - Silent Group Floor”, but it seems that nothing is able to ruin the submerged feeling of a self-deprecation streak that came with the end of the semester. Jaemin twists himself back a little painfully in order to look behind him and grins at the flash of toned down orange in the sea of dark hair.

Donghyuck’s hands are occupied with two Starbucks cups that Jaemin recognises as cold brew, wrapped up in a pullover and his well-worn denim jeans. There’s a soft red on his cheeks as he approaches, meaning it was colder outside than it was earlier, but distantly all Jaemin could think of was how cute he looked.

“You’re a fucking life saver, Lee,” Jaemin groans, perking up when Donghyuck came to a halt by their table. “I could kiss you right now.”

“There is prime real estate, ready to rent,” he says, placing the drinks on the table and leaning in with a hand braced against the table. Jaemin could see each individual lash on his eyeline as the other boy got close, brandishing his cheek with a smug smile, and knew he couldn’t back down. (It was his one character flaw, what could he say?)

Jaemin smiles, a little quirk of the lips that prefaces his next actions.

 

**WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)**

  * Turn around and smack the drinks onto the floor. No one would expect this. Also, he’s a fool for being kind to a man who’s about to risk it all for a Sociology paper. (+ATK)
  * Propose to him. Just get on one knee and go wild in the throes of engagement. You can elope immediately, to somewhere that doesn’t have any end of term essays to be written. Hawaii? (+GUTS)
  * Plant one on him. Just do it. A smackaroonie, right on his cheek. He deserves this. (+CHR)



 

The younger reaches up and holds his neck with both of his hands, lining his thumbs up against his Adam’s apple and, as gently as one can, manhandles his friend closer to him; relishing in the squawk Donghyuck lets out. Jaemin doesn’t even let him say words, just swoops in and lays the wettest smooch he can muster on the other’s cheek. “ _UGH_ , JAEMIN—“

“Thanks, darling,” he sings, patting his neck with an exhilarant grin; punctuating his words by sucking loudly on the straw and leaning back. Donghyuck recoils almost instantly, glowering as he uses his sleeve to frantically wipe at his cheek. Jaemin honestly can’t even bring himself to feel _faux_ upset at that, because this drink was exactly what he needed to survive. He could physically feel the energy releasing into his body.

If he were to properly explain what he was feeling right now, it felt like _Lucy_. (2014 film; solid 2.5/5 rating if you asked Jaemin. Too much white nonsense.)

Anyways, Lucy metaphor underway: with each sip he unlocks the ability to use 10% more of his brain. He thinks with a couple more, he can genuinely recount each acute, minute step of the Dakota Access Pipeline movement. That, or he can simply properly start revising now.

“You’re such a dick,” Donghyuck whines, clambering into the chair next to Jaemin. If his flushed-from-the-cold cheeks had mellowed out when they were talking, they were back in full force by now, accompanying the turned-red tips of his ears. Jaemin says nothing back, but he does raise a free hand to rub at his ear in a teasing manner, small smile on his face.

Jungwoo’s eyebrows were dramatically raised, ready to up and move permanently into his hairline, the whole shebang as he watched from where he sat across the table.

“What a welcome,” he says with a wry look, head cocked to the side as if he were studying the whole interaction with a magnifying glass. _It’s those eyes,_ Jaemin muses, instead of thinking about the meaning behind the look. _They hold a lot of power. I wonder if he teaches twinkling electives?_

“Jungwoooo... I thought Jaemin was studying alone so I only brought one drink but... you can have mine? I promise I’m not sick right now and junk?” Donghyuck offers, sounding sheepish that 1) they did that whole thing right in front of an unsuspecting him and 2) he didn’t even have a drink for his troubles. He shakes his own drink gently, a quarter of it down for the count but still cold, if the condensation on the cup was anything to go by.

Jungwoo couldn’t stop the small smile that graced his lips and shook his head.

“I’m good, Hyuck, don’t worry. Jaemin’s the one dying from exhaustion, so you’re free of my wrath this time.”

“Thank God,” he says, bodily relaxing in a way that could only be characterised as Donghyuck: exaggerated, theatrical, damn-well extra. He carries on, joining Jaemin in his quest to slurp. “This is the one thing that’s keeping me going right about now.”

“Didn’t you nap earlier?” Jaemin says pointedly, knowing full well he did. He knows, because when Jaemin left his flat at 12 and knocked on Donghyuck’s door across the hall to see if he actually _did_ want to come and revise with him and Jungwoo (like they had agreed the night before over chicken and beer.)

Donghyuck had chosen to reply, not with his physical presence to open up the door, but rather with a single, vague, but somehow still well-crafted Snapchat of him wrapped snug in the covers of his bed; captioned aptly, _im gna.  sleep bye_

“Yeah, and you _know_ this,” Donghyuck says, wielding his Starbucks cup at Jaemin emphatically. “But after all that, Jeno made me go to the gym with him because Yukhei wasn’t around to spot, which meant I had to actually... exercise. _Shiver._ ”

“You know that instead of saying ‘shiver’ like you can’t read stage directions on a script properly, you could actually, like, physically shiver right?” Jaemin says, reinvigorated thanks to the drink and bickering with Donghyuck.

“More dramatic flair that way,” the older says, with a pleased wiggle of his eyebrows. Jungwoo gives him that, wagging his finger in a ‘he’s got you there!’ kind of way, and Jaemin can’t exactly disagree.

“Valid,” Jaemin says, nodding.

Funnily enough, the both of them tried out for Theatre Society and found it wasn’t for them, especially when nobody in it was willing to respect their sheer aptitude for the melodramatic arts. That, and also the fact it was a £10 membership. Jaemin was fine with re-watching a Sing-A-Long version of _Rent_ every two months with a glass of wine in the comfort of his own home, thanks.

“Not that it doesn’t warm my heart to see you be nice to Jaemin for a change, but is there any reason you’re ruining the sanctity of Level 2 here?” Jungwoo says, genuinely interested.

“Fuck, there _was_ a reason. And fuck, this _is_ Level 2. The security guard is gonna kick my ass if he sees me.” When they stared at him blankly, he carried on sheepishly. “I, uh, got kicked out for bringing hot takeout into one of the study rooms last week,” he says, blanching at the memory.

Jaemin can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, resting his chin on his hand and angling himself closer.

“God, Hyuck, what were you planning on doing when we were talking about it last night? Smuggling yourself in here like a pirate who’s just trying to get his qualifications?”

“I kinda just... didn’t think that far. _Anyways,_ that’s irrelevant, and I need to talk to you. Come, come!”

Donghyuck slides out of his seat smoothly and suddenly, moving over to grab Jaemin’s free wrist and indicate he wants to dip with a strong tug. Jaemin isn’t prepared, and almost falls out of the desk chair. Lady Luck is on his side, however, as he quickly manages to find his footing and rights himself with a grumble. He sends a wave over his shoulder to Jungwoo, whose mildly baffled expression makes him stifle a laugh with the same hand.

Donghyuck takes them across the landing, moving past Weird Duvet Girl and ducking into the main stairwell of the library. Backing himself up, he pulls Jaemin into an alcove in the corner, directing his most charming smile at him and, ah.

This look — this look he’s very aware of. He knows this look because he’s seen Donghyuck want something and succeed in getting it many times with just a glimpse of it. He’s seen Jeno crumble and take him out to get onigiri when their mock exams were all over because of it. He’s seen Renjun buckle and spend a whole Saturday volunteering at the Dance table during the societies fair because of it. Hell, it’s even been used on Jaemin. Multiple times, at that. Donghyuck was a monster.

“Okay, soooo. I have a request,” Donghyuck says, clapping his hands together then rubbing them like a tiny evil genius. The sweatshirt he’s wearing is a little big for him, tucked messily into his jeans but the big sleeves give it away when they bunch up at his elbows.

“And here I was thinking you were just being a good friend,” Jaemin sighs, leaning against the railing beside him on the stairwell and looking at him pointedly. He enjoyed their minor height difference, he had to be honest. “I’m hurt, Duckie. Really.”

“I’m consistently a good friend, loser,” Donghyuck shoves at him square in the chest, effectively contradicting his words. “But that’s not the point.”

“Lay it on me, babe,” Jaemin says, cracking his neck slightly and grinning when Donghyuck winces at the sound in front of him. His spine is finally paying him back for all his awkward revision poses the past three-and-a-bit hours, and he’s regretting a lot of things right now, but annoying Donghyuck took the edge off.

“Soooo, I’m gonna need you to come with me somewhere.”

“Eh? Where would you like me to go?” Jaemin says, interested now.

“To a tarot reading. I got a deal off the place I’ve been talking about for months now, the one by Ci Tech? With my student ID, so I got two tickets, right?” Donghyuck actually pauses, making sure Jaemin understands. Jaemin simply nods, lips pursed slightly but keeping quiet for once.

“So Jeno told me he’d come with me, right, but the fucker is dropping me for a pre-scheduled bro date with Mark Lee, and this reservation is _non-refundable_ ,” he says in an annoyed tone, “so can you please come with me?”

“Oh, so I’m your second choice? Like I said, that _hurts_ , Hyuckie,” Jaemin says in mock hurt, whining and then immediately laughing when Donghyuck shoves him again.

“Shut up! I would’ve picked you but Jeno was with me when I got the tickets. I was in a euphoric haze, dude. Just picked the first boy I saw.”

“You _what_ , now?” Jaemin says, leaning forward a bit more with a grin slowly blossoming on his face.

Donghyuck takes the tiniest of steps back. “What?”

“You said you would’ve picked me first? That’s _adorable_ ,” Jaemin coos, unsure why he’s focusing on that over anything else. He reaches over to pinch at Donghyuck’s cheeks, but the fucker ducks out of the way at the last moment.

“Duh. You’re the only one who gives a shit about me giving a shit about arcana. Of course I wanna share it with you,” Donghyuck huffs, looking away. He seems embarrassed, and Jaemin pulls back on the reins a bit.

“Well, I’m sure I can flick through my diary and pencil you in,” Jaemin says languidly, pulling his phone out again and flicking across his Homepage to the Calendar app.

“That’s the thing,” Donghyuck says, with a coy grin. “It’s in three hours.”

“It’s tonight? But... my planned evening study session... my... my meal deal...” Jaemin whines, scrunching his face up again and sliding his phone back into his pocket. He had _plans,_ plans that consisted of Smoked Ham and Cheddar and a gross-but-extremely affective Redbull that, worst comes to worst, he could always turn into a Jägerbomb if revision times got tough. He didn’t even fucking _like_ studying, but with all the deadlines crawling up on him...

“I know this, and I love you.”

“Donghyuck,” he grumbles, cut off suddenly when Donghyuck grabs his hands and holds them loosely between them like they’re exchanging vows.

“Thank you for deciding to blow it all off for yours truly, it’s incredibly appreciated, and I will repay you in bubble tea immediately afterwards?” He carries on like Jaemin said nothing at all. “Pleeease, dude. I’ve been wanting to go for, like, ages.”

“Ugh. Fine, whatever, you owe me a taro milktea later and I _will_ come to collect.”

Donghyuck’s hands tighten around Jaemin’s, excitable now, pulling the younger’s hands to his chest and practically jumping on the spot. “Ugh, Nana, you’re my hero! So are you gonna stay here and revise until seven?”

“Yep. I gotta now, thanks to a certain someone. So long break... so long relaxation...” Jaemin sighs heartily, then immediately backing out of his joke when he saw the slight downtown of Donghyuck’s lips. “Joking! I’m joking. I’m absolutely ecstatic to come with you. Maybe the fortune teller can tell me if I’m gonna pass semester one.”

“Of course you’re gonna pass, asshole, you’re smart as hell,” Donghyuck says assuredly, then looks down at where he’s still avidly clasping Jaemin’s hands tight to his chest. Jaemin hadn’t even noticed, not really. He drops them then, as if scorned, scratching at the back of his neck. “Anyways. Um. Tonight. I’ll pick you up outside the library?”

Jaemin didn’t push it, nodding with a more tender smile that he was willing to acknowledge. “See you then, dearest.”

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, messing with his sleeves instead.

“I’ll text you when I’m outside, okay?” he asks, not looking at him. Jaemin can see he’s more affected than he lets on, however, if the tips of his ears are anything to go by. He doesn’t have any time to think about it properly however, as Donghyuck squeezes by him to head down the stairs and out of the library.

“See you later?” Jaemin calls after him, confusion rising his tone to sound like a question. Donghyuck turned on the step, with grace only someone like him could have, and gave him a two-fingered salute and The Smile™, leaving Jaemin staring stupidly after him with a grin.

 

*

 

It was interesting, the moment Donghyuck and Jaemin became DonghyuckandJaemin. It wasn’t particularly ground-breaking, however: officially, they met at Fresher’s week.

(Of course they did.)

Jaemin had been stuck with his initial roommate, a creepy local guy who moved into student housing purely because _there’s more access to the babes that way, right dude?_ Sad to say, Jaemin didn’t know anyone else because his two other flatmates still hadn’t shown their faces during the hours of daylight, and his course orientation started the week after. Luckily enough, both the Societies and Fresher’s fairs were going on this week, so Jaemin at least felt comfort knowing he was lonely in a sea of other lonely, not quite as attractive people.

Jaemin tried to be a supportive acquaintance, because despite the guy being shitty as hell he was the only one Jaemin had the displeasure of knowing, but he dipped as soon as the guy hovered by the Anime club to discuss Hentai in a very loud, very embarrassing voice. _Nope! Nope, nope, nope_.

“I’ll text you later... bro,” Jaemin had said, trying not to spit the word out. He didn’t stick around to hear the other’s answer, instead turning around and walking away; looking for a different tent that held societies that were possibly a little closer to his interests.

When he wandered to the one of the other side of the plaza, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the overly dramatic design on the Theatre club store. Something he had explored a lot in Highschool were drama productions: he enjoyed singing, being the centre of attention, and surprisingly, despite having almost zero artistic flavour — painting sets. Go figure.

Because nothing else had drawn his eye, he made a beeline over to the fairly barren table. The closest girl behind the desk’s eyes lit up, flyer in hand as she greeted him readily.

She chirped a bright _Hello!_ before shoving a flyer in his face.

 

**2017-18 THEATRE SOCIETY: WHAT IS THIS FEELING? INTRO SOCIAL @ THE SU THIS THURSDAY!!**

 

Looking at his bewildered face as he scanned it, she quickly carried on. “What’s your name?”

“Um... it’s Jaemin,” he replied, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

“Nice to meet you, Jaemin! My name is Wendy, and I’m this year’s appointed Chair this year for the Theatre Society,” she said, impossibly cheerfully. “We tend to put together musicals, performances, do trips out to the local and city stages, that sort of thing. It’s really fun!”

He might actually die of sweet-tooth.

“So, there’s a like... introduction social coming up?” Jaemin asked, if only to be polite and prompt her to pitch further. He knew there was, because it said on the stupidly bright flyer. His eyes stung.

“Yep! Totally free, suuuper relaxed, you know? You can come and hang out with people with the same interests, then if you’re interested you can buy the membership. Kind of like a taster session?”

He scanned the page again, gulping once he noticed the price. £10? If Wendy’s surprisingly astute vision noticed his Adam’s apple bobbing with a apprehension, she didn’t say anything; keeping that perpetual, unwavering smile on her face. To be fair, the taster session was free, and anything to get him meeting new people that weren’t his roommate from hell was a dream come true.

“Sure, I’ll come,” he said quickly, before he could change his mind.

“That’s great!” She said, looking at him like he had offered her his first born as a sacrifice. She pushed a clipboard forward, offering a pen. “If you sign your name in block characters on here, we’d be _super_ grateful. It’ll give us an idea of who will possibly attending and that helps us gauge stuff like how many free drinks and stuff.”

It was blatantly said to entice him, but he didn’t care because it _did._ He was ready to sign his life away for a Snakebite or two. “I’ll invite my friends, then.”

His subconscious laughed at him for that one. _You don’t have any yet, buddy._

Wendy seemed appeased at that, smiling even wider as Jaemin braced a hand on a spare spot of the desk to sign. She startled then, and he looked up to see her looking at someone over her shoulder.

“Hello! Are you interested in the Theatre Society too?”

“Something like that,” a high-pitched voice said, laughing nervously. Jaemin continued signing his name quietly as Wendy shoved another flyer into the interested party’s face, then leaning up and out of their space. He meant to get a quick getaway, pocketing his own folded-over flyer in his coat, when Wendy spoke up again.

“Oh, wait. Jaemin, have this,” she said, brandishing a nice quality, red pin badge. It had “Theatre Society” in a swoopy font, but that was about it. That was kind of its charm, however. Nice and easy.

“Thanks,” Jaemin said, quirking the corners of his lips up at her then reaching over to collect it.

“Whoa, that’s cool,” a voice from beside him said. Dark hair leaned over to obscure his vision as the other Theatre Soc novice peered at the badge.

For some reason, he didn’t feel weirded out. Validated, maybe. It was fucking cool to have your own badge.

“Right?” Jaemin says, turning it to show this new guy the full view of it. Wendy was preening at this, metaphorical chest puffed like a seagull. The guy next to him looked up with impossibly big eyes, and Jaemin noticed the smudges of eyeliner on the bottom lash line.

“Can I have one?” He said, after directing a grin at Jaemin, wheeling around to face Wendy.

“Of course! If you sign up here, and take a flyer away you can get one,” she chimed, with her seemingly magical — or a talented crafted after years of appreciating musical theatre — tone of voice. 

“Oh, for the social, right? Are you going?” He asked suddenly, turning back around to Jaemin.

“Uhhhh... I will if you will?” Jaemin said, blinking slowly like he was on buffer and then offering a friendly grin.

“Sounds perfect. Hey, I’m Donghyuck,” the guy, Donghyuck said, brushing his dark hair back out of his face and then sticking a thin hand out—

“Dude, Earth to Jaemin.”

A swift jab to his side makes Jaemin stumble out of his daydream, and then he feels an arm wrap around his back, clasping at his side to prop him up. “Uh, you okay?”

“Just... fucking freezing,” Jaemin says, looking up and glaring at the sky, as if that would stop Mother Nature, or the weather system in general.

“Oh. Well.”

The arm retracts.

“Ugh, I should’ve asked you to bring me a jacket,” Jaemin moans, hands wrapped around himself and glaring straight ahead as they walked. Donghyuck had picked him up, sending him a quick text to let him know _i’m outside, dumbass_ ♡, and Jaemin had wrapped up his study day with a wish of luck to an increasingly growing destitute Jungwoo, then headed out of there almost instantly.

They were almost near Ci Tech now, walking faster than usual half so Jaemin could build up some sort of tolerance to the cold, and half so Donghyuck wouldn’t miss his appointment. Donghyuck had on a denim jacket, so it wasn’t like he was exactly exposed to the cold, but it couldn’t have been warm for him either.

“You should’ve. But now you gotta suffer,” Donghyuck crows in a heavily exaggerated voice, pouting over at him mockingly and sliding his arm through the crook of Jaemin’s. The taller boy pulls his face into a scowl, shoving into his side gently but tightening his grip on Donghyuck’s arm anyways so they stumble to the side together on the pavement. “Hey! Not my fault you only chose to wear a hoodie and sweats today.”

“It was decent weather today,” Jaemin says, pouting for real this time and regretting  the actions of Jaemin from the past. “And this is my nice hoodie.”

“It _is_ nice,” Donghyuck admits as they cross the road a bit prematurely, ignoring the zebra crossing in favour of running quickly across the road before a car can hit them. “I’m thinking of getting the same one in black.”

 _Like couple clothes?_ A part, surprisingly not all that deep down inside him says. He opens his mouth, words on the tip of his tongue, but says something else at the last minute. “You really like to keep up this Goth v. Prep thing we got going on, huh?”

“It’s the only thing that gets me up in the morning, Na.”

They duck down a side street, walking somehow impossibly closer until the flashing neon sign of **PSYCHIC TAROT READING!!** came clearer into view. It was a nice little store, tucked away in the brick , that somehow looked a little more mysterious in the dusk.

Donghyuck pulls his hand back out of their link when they approach the door, and Jaemin vaguely misses the warmth. He extends a shy hand, finding purchase on the door handle and opening the door to let the both of them in.

The first thing Jaemin notices is the hanging chains and beads from the rafters. It’s dimly lit, for atmosphere he thinks, but it works? Somehow. The wood panel flooring creaks ominously when Jaemin gets distracted by a pretty golden packaged tarot set, and he does _not_ startle. Much.

“Good evening,” a female voice sounds from their left. He turns and sees a pretty girl, not too much older than them, manning the counter. She has her phone in her hand, obnoxiously chewing some bubble gum and looks like she would rather be anywhere than working this shift. Her name tag reads: ‘Haseul.’ “You getting a reading?

Jaemin flashes her his most charming of grins, his number one weapon in his inventory, but she doesn’t react in the slightest. Mildly affronted, he waits patiently as Donghyuck approaches the counter and produces two, rather small tickets and slides them across the table. She produces a hole-puncher seemingly out of nowhere, cuts into them with it, before sliding them back over. “Enjoy,” she says, her voice still bored.

Instead of loitering, Donghyuck smiles at her in a sort of forced politeness before reaching over, grabbing Jaemin’s pink hoodie sleeve and directing him further in towards the back of the store, where **TAROT READER & ADVISOR HERE **resides in equally bright, neon lighting. Either side of the entrance to the tarot reader were things like archaic talismans and intricate looking book covers, on the walls and book cases respectively, and it fascinated Jaemin to no extent.

“Oh my god, I’m so excited,” Donghyuck mumbles, a little bit in awe, running his thumbnail across the pad of his forefinger from where his free hand resided by his solar plexus. It was a nervous habit Jaemin had noticed from time to time. Averting his eyes from that hand, he changed course to stare at the thin hand that still clutched at his sleeve. His nails were painted black this time, his index a soft mauve, and his slightly-bigger-than-his-wrist bracelet with the eclectic charms (mostly skulls) shining when it caught the light.

“Wanna go in or just stand around admiring the furniture? ‘Cos, you know, we totally can,” Jaemin snarks playfully, and Donghyuck wheels around to glare at him; fluffy layers in his hair moving in disarray before stepping a bit more forward. There’s a felt opening, or tent of sorts like one would see at a carnival in front of them, and the older boy hesitates for just a moment before he fists the purple fabric and creates a space for the two to walk through.

“Hello,” a soft, older women’s voice greets them. She is sat at an equally-purple, cover-laden table, staring down at a fan of cards on the table, but her voice sounds kind enough. “Are you here for a reading?”

“Uh, yes,” Donghyuck says, incredibly polite all of a sudden and stepping forward a little more. Jaemin lets out a huff of laughter. As soon as he crosses the threshold, she looks up with surprisingly astute eyes. She narrows them, the same smile on her face however, and slides the cards back into a more solid shape of a deck before beckoning them over. Her mildly wrinkled hands were adorned with rings, and trinkets not too different than Donghyuck’s, but a lot more in volume.

Jaemin is intimidated. He’ll happily admit it.

There’s something about this woman that just screams _omniscient._ He just watches as Donghyuck takes a seat in the furthest chair from them, and then follows suit.

“What kind of reading are you looking for tonight?” She asks politely, eyes unblinking.

“Why do you say that?” Jaemin asks, cutting in before Donghyuck. He regrets it, making a note to apologise later, but there was something about that line that really interested him. Donghyuck busies himself by slipping off his jacket. He’s probably just glad Jaemin is being an active participant. “I thought it was only like... Pick three cards, they’re your past, present, future. Right?”

“In the ever-shifting fog that is tarot, multiple different readings exist. You can ask about your future, about your financial status, what things may reveal themselves as lucky to you. Your past? Why your actions have lead up to a certain point. Your health... your love life?” Her voice angles into a question, gaze flitting between them with a loaded look. Jaemin physically stutters at that, mouth opening and then closing. He got nothing.

“Could you do a short relationship reading, maybe?”

Donghyuck’s voice is remarkably clear, and not embarrassed at all. Jaemin’s not sure he can relate, for once.

“On the two of you?”

A nod.

“Of course.”

She busies herself reshuffling the cards, stilling at times for reasons undisclosed. Jaemin spends his time trying to justify that asking to evaluate your relationship with your bro is completely platonic.

He looks over then, slowly to study Donghyuck, who is very adamantly not looking at him but trying to pass it off as casual, unbothered. He knows this, because he knows Donghyuck through and through. He can tell his ticks, the way he worries the bottom of his lip with his teeth, the way he runs his nail over the pad of his finger, the way he fiddles with the bootleg Prince phone case Mark had got him for his birthday.

“Alright. Now, I would like you to both pick two cards. They represent your present, and your future, and combined will reflect the card’s opinion on your current relationship, and the welfare of that relationship in as time goes on.”

Her voice, though soft spoken, has command weaving through it, and they find themselves nodding instead of actually speaking. Donghyuck goes first, hand hovering over the deck a lot more cautiously that Jaemin does, picking two cards at opposite sides of the sprawl. Jaemin picks two close together ones, if only to be different than his friend.

The tarot reader separates the first picks to the second picks, before pushing forward the first section into a more centric position on their table. She gestures for Donghyuck to turn over the card, and he does, albeit a little nervously.

It was interesting, watching him be nervous, Jaemin muses. Donghyuck is such a searing ray of light, so easy to trailblaze and take charge, and of course he’s seen it before — he was there watching the Dance Soc’s team tryouts, saw him bounce from foot-to-foot whilst Yerim asked him to _calm down, loser, but can you help me stretch?_ He’s seen this, he knows, but it doesn’t stop being intriguing.

He hears Donghyuck’s breath suck in beside him, and Jaemin’s retrospective gaze turns curious. It isn’t returned, but he doesn’t look away until the advisor taps the now revealed first Past card.

“The first one picked was by...” She looks up then with her sharp eyes, her kind features, prompting him for a name.

“Donghyuck. Donghyuck Lee.”

“Ah, Donghyuck. The first card is shown to be ‘Judgement,’ in the reversed position. And the next card, by...”

“Jaemin Na,” he supplies, his focus now on the card rather than the person before him. He reaches forward, not needing to be told twice, and flips it over.  

“Jaemin’s card reveals itself as ‘the Empress.’ What an interesting combination,” she begins, inspecting the cards. “Combined, in terms of a connection of such, it often shows two people at two very different parts of a relationship, albeit the bond being strong. I’m assuming you haven’t been friends for long, but you are quite close, correct?”

“Uh, yeah. We started university, the local one up away from the city center, at the same time, and it’s only nearing the end of second year but... Besties, I’d like to think,” Jaemin answers, picking into a stray thread of his sweatpants pocket but trying to maintain eye contact. He found it difficult. He vainly wondered if people felt this way around him.

Donghyuck makes a noise of agreement, but somehow still managing to sound embarrassed.

“The Empress card identifies with self-empowerment and recognizing your true self, but with Justice accompanying it, that true image is clouded somewhat. It reflects that there is something at the root of your relationship, something that’s possibly been there for a long while, that could be obscuring the development of it.”

“Well, that’s not the _best_ turn of events,” Jaemin says, and is promptly pinched on the inside of his knee. “Hey!”

“Shhhh,” Donghyuck admonishes lightly, hitting his knee lightly before retracting it. Jaemin purses his lips but falls silent anyway. They didn’t notice their advisor watching them, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Judgement in the reversed position doesn’t have to be something negative, however. Especially when it comes to relationships. It just serves as a bit of a prompt for introspection. Is there something you have been feeling recently in regards to the other person? Do you have issues with change? Those sorts of things,” she tells them softly. Her question was clearly rhetorical, because neither Donghyuck nor Jaemin have the gall to answer and she barrels on regardless. “Coalesced with the Empress card, something known for revealing the ‘true you’, the ‘intuitive you’, I believe you can summarize it as this: within your current time, your present, your inner feelings are simply budding; starting to awaken. I believe your relationship will evolve if you start being more instinctive in regards to yourself and each other.”

She didn’t give them time to dispute it, or acknowledge it even, as she pushed the last two cards into centre position post-removal of the others. Donghyuck leans in, looking almost afraid of what would come next, two fingers pressed together to drag the card facedown towards him slightly before flipping it.

“Oh my God,” Donghyuck mumbles.

“You two are so interesting!” She grins, brighter this time. “This is my most interesting read in a while.”

Jaemin looks at the cards, then Donghyuck’s side profile, and then the advisor, completely stumped.

“The first card picked by Donghyuck is titled, ‘The Lovers.’ Interesting once more.”

Donghyuck’s hands cover his face. Jaemin can see the tips of his ears are red again, and croons; and moves to pinch them again.

“With the Lovers, not only does it encourage a romantic relationship, but moreover can focus on the flourishing of an already strong bond. Do not get me wrong however: it’s almost always to do with the nature of love,” she says, radiant at this revelation and ignorant of the mood. Donghyuck’s ears get redder. Jaemin isn’t sure what to do with this information and lets his hands fall back into his lap, pinching aborted.

“Ambivalence is something strong with the Lovers. This card represents the Gemini, the two parts of one whole aspect.”

“Hyuck’s a Gemini.”

“Interesting! Usually it can be inferred, in terms of love lines, that your heart is telling you one thing and your mind another. You may feel not confident? But accompanied with the second card, Jaemin’s pick: Ace of Cups, it really encourages you to take that next leap. I suppose that’s up for you to decide.”

“I...” Donghyuck starts, finally pulling his hands away. “I just. Uh, that’s a lot.”

“Oh, did I get carried away? Sorry, deary. I get a little...” She flourishes her fingers with a smile that’s not really all that apologetic. “Lost in the cards, as they say.”

“No, no it’s okay, um. Yeah! Yeah. Thanks, it was super... Informative,” Donghyuck says, looking over to Jaemin who won’t look at him. He looks on ahead, instead, a shy smile on his face as he looks at the advisor.

“That was fun,” Jaemin says after a while, giving nothing away. His voice is overly pleasant, and he hopes Donghyuck can’t hear the hammering in his chest. “Really. Thank you. I’ll leave a 5 star Yelp review.”

“Jaem,” Donghyuck says, punctuating it with a tap on his arm.

“I’m being genuine, Hyuck,” he starts, shrugging and standing up. “Thank you. We done here?”

Donghyuck, shaking his head, stands up then with him. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws the punched tickets, fiddling with them ever so slightly. “I was really excited to come, so thank you for making it an enjoyable experience.”

“You’re welcome. Those tickets allow for a second reading within the next six months of use, so if you would ever like to come back — alone, or otherwise,” she says with another heavy look at the both of them, “you’re welcome to.”

Jaemin brushes the imaginary dust down the front of his hoodie as Donghyuck thanks her again, before looking at Jaemin and beckoning him out with a flick of his wrist. Jaemin follows, smiling at the older woman who had returned reshuffling her deck, before disappearing under the purple cloak.

“Are you good?” Jaemin asks, later on, after the awkwardness rising up and threatening to swallow them whole gets a little too close to his mouth.

“Of course I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be good?”

Donghyuck’s voice is unusually tight, his jaw set as they walk back down the road to get to their student accommodation. Jaemin can’t match his feet to walk in sync, always a step behind.

“Uh, I don’t... know,” he says, frowning at the Donghyuck before him. Donghyuck doesn’t falter.

They continue walking, lapsing in a heavy silence made more prominent with the lack of sound apart from the local pub’s customers in the far distance. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s not too sure on it either. What would he say? What _could_ he say?

 

**WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)**

  1. Ignore it and suffocate in the silence. Jaemin doesn’t _have_ to crack first. He puts the (silent) ‘petty’ in competitive, and other witty self-truths. (+DEF)
  2. Fuck it, something — anything — has to come out of this, something better than this stalemate they have going on. (+ATK)
  3. Please, just talk to the guy. (+CHR)



 

“Fuck, it’s later than I thought it’d be. Rain check on the bubble tea?” Donghyuck says, scratching the back of his neck behind the denim collar and sounding actually apologetic, despite the fact it was obvious he couldn't wait to Naruto Run away from this situation.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jaemin waves him off with a mock glare. He’d accost him after their shared Critical Theory lecture on Friday. There’s a pause, before he sucks in a breath and stops under the streetlight that’s guiding them back. The way his voice threatens to shake makes him sick. “Hey, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck freezes then, pivoting with a guilty look on his face that’s poorly hid. Jaemin knows it’s poorly hid, because he knows Donghyuck. The slightly older boy brings his wrist up so he can fiddle with the little skulls and charms decorating his bracelet, and waits for Jaemin to speak.

“Listen, I know you don’t wanna talk about it. I get that, okay, whatever,” he starts, swallowing down the discomfort at having a 100% transparent conversation about something so remarkably personal. “And I know you take this seriously so I’m not gonna say disregard it, or downplay it or whatever, but like... it’s okay? From this moment on things don’t _have_ to change. If that’s what’s running through your mind, that is. Whatever comes next, we’ll tackle it and — uh, it won’t... ruin our friendship, right?”

This entire situation dripped with déjà vu.

“Right! No, duh,” Donghyuck says, kind of rushed but eyes imploring. “I don’t want to lose you, Nana.”

He means it too. He’s glad that Jaemin tackled this first, it’s obvious in the way his body language relaxes, the way his furrowed brow finally slackens. He’s lit up by the overhead street light, flush of his cheeks clearly visible. He looks absolutely wonderful, and for the first time that starts to scare Jaemin a little bit.

“Right. So. It’s fine!” Jaemin says, a little strained. He’s nodding to himself, and to Donghyuck and to the invisible red string of fate that has seen fit to tie them together, and in the space of all that he somehow forgets what a cold night it is. “Everything is okay.”

 

*

 

(Everything was not okay.)

“Jeno, I think this might be it for me.”

“Dude, you _knuh_ you’re gonna path your finalth. You’ve worked tho hard,” he says with a mouth full of crisps.

“No, not about that,” he says, swatting away aggressively the imagery of Durkheim and Simmel looming over him and his lack of revision. “About the dumb tarot reading you bailed on.”

“Oh,” he crunches and swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is Hyuck mad? He said he wasn’t mad, but I’m pretty sure he’s mad.”

Jaemin cranes his head to look over at where Jeno is sat on his desk chair, neatly folding up his crisps packet with downturned lips.

“No, he’s not mad. Not much, anyway. But that’s not the point— the point is _I’m_ mad.”

Anguish crossed Jeno’s face. “Why are _you_ mad? What have I done?!”

“You’ve ruined my life, Jeno Lee. Take responsibility,” he glowers, before his head falls back onto the somewhat uncomfortable memory foam pillow beneath him. He’s currently lying haphazardly on the bed in the flat that he and Renjun share, phone decisively on _Do Not Disturb!_ mode and face down on his counter.

“What did I doooo...” Jeno whines, using his feet to drag himself with his ass still firmly planted on the desk chair, and traveling over painfully slowly to stop in front of Jaemin’s upside-down head.

The scene was this: it was the next day. Jaemin had spent his morning classes in a sort of uncomfortable haze, that same haze that had trailed after him ever since he woke up and went to go brush his teeth. (It was so impacting that he wasn’t really writing down notes for the exam that was coming up apart from _apocalypticism in green politics is all a bit wild..._ and hey, at least it was true.)

He then spent his time hanging off of Siyeon until they parted ways to get their respective living spaces to get the recordings he knew she always took to listen back on; retrieving those if Jaemin promised not to bother her in a fortnight. He struck that deal.

Afterwards, he rang Jeno up as he headed back, citing an emergency and requesting his presence — “...at the earliest convenience, dear!”

“ _I have class, though.”_

“Oh. Oops? Forgot about that. Can’t you bunk?”

“ _Dude. Finals._ ”

“Dude. _Emergency._ ”

“ _Okay, okay, just gimme me a moment,_ ” he said, sounding hard done by, the line ruffling as he assumedly put the phone down for a second. Jaemin paused then, tapping his foot impatiently. “ _Oooo-kay, we’re good. Yukhei’s gonna shares his notes with me. We going to yours?”_

“Duh. Also, thank you, I love you, you’re the best friend a boy could have.”

Jeno made a disgruntled nose on the other line and Jaemin heard some rustling again.

“ _You know_ ,” he started, his voice sounding a bit further from the receiver “ _it makes me sound like a dog rather than your actual friend when you joke like that_.”

Jaemin grinned at that, hoping the old woman waiting by the bus stop who was watching him wander by didn’t think he was too much of a freak. “This is venturing into furry territo—”

“ _NOPE. Nope! I’m going to text you when I’m outside yours and I’m ending this call_.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”

 _“...What_.”

“Walk with me,” Jaemin said, whining into the receiver. “I’m coming up to Sci block now. My own class just ended, not like I even took any notes regardless, but that’s besides the point.”

“What are you wearing today?” Jeno asked innocently, and a sly smile spread across Jaemin’s face.

“Lee, if you’re going down that route you just _can’t_ jump straight into that. Ever heard of sexual tension? The build up? The—”

“Oh my god, JAEMIN. I haven’t got my glasses or contacts in today, so unless you’re wearing your ugly Triple S’, I’m not gonna see you until you see me,” Jeno grumbled quickly, interrupting him before he can really take it too far.

“Lucky for you,” Jaemin says, watching as Jeno turns the corner and striking the most dramatic pose with one knee bent beneath him and his hands gesturing at his garish pink trainers. “I came prepared.”

Jeno quits with call with the most exasperated look on his face.

That brings them to now.

Jaemin stares up at Jeno’s upside down, distraught face, reaches up… and then flicks him on the nose.

He groans, reeling back. “That hurt.”

“You’ve put me in a shitty position, Jeno. _That_ hurts _.”_

If Jeno had only one talent, it was that he could communicate even the most intricate of emotions with his extremely expressive face. Currently, he was portraying the good ol’ triple question mark, eyebrows drawn in but also up? He was so talented.

Jaemin’s heart clenched with the utmost love for his friend. His mouth had different ideas. “The reading, you oaf.”

“Oooooh, you went?” Jeno says, cocking his head not too unlike a puppy. “How’d it go? Bad? Why’d it go bad? Did it reveal some hard-hitting home truths you weren’t ready to unlock yet?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Jaemin replies, quiet. His face turns into quilt of his bed covers, smushing his cheek against it and huffing out a sigh.

“Are you okay, dude?” Jeno says, softer now and tentatively fiddling with Jaemin’s fringe that had flopped across his eyebrows.

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to run to Renjun with it? A bonafide JxJ secret,” Jaemin says, seriously, fingers that were tapping a slow beat on his thigh stilling.

“God, is it that bad?”

“Absolutely awful. The worst,” Jaemin says with conviction, forcing himself up with one hand against the mattress, spinning around awkwardly and leaning into Jeno’s personal space. “Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”

Jeno furrows his brow at that bizarre sentence, but he keeps his mouth shut and nods until Jaemin leans back and lingers on his side, pressing down on the quilt cover. “So it was cool, right? I can’t stress enough that I didn’t have a bad... time. More like a weird? Time?”

The room is silent apart from Jaemin’s voice, and Jeno’s pointed quietness causes him to push on. “We got a relationship reading, or whatever. But... the reader, she...”

“What’d she say?”

Jaemin gulps. He’d been stewing on this all night, all day even. He hadn’t uttered the words out loud, yet, and this would be the first time he would be acknowledging the awkward situation.

His attention turns to the posters plastered over the wall, the mini Yongdae Lee, star badminton player extraordinaire shrine with his own racket leaned up against the wardrobe, the pictures plastered over his note board of both his hometown friends and the one’s he’s made here. The one at the center of them all: the one of him and Donghyuck.

“She basically said we were destined to fall in love? Like what kind of bullshit?”

Jeno pauses, from where he’s staring intently, tilting his head like a sound-localising puppy and looking at Jaemin like he’s grown a second head. “But... why would that be bullshit?”

“Donghyuck is my best friend?” At Jeno’s disappointed purse of his lips, he corrects himself. “Okay loser, _one_ of my best friends. That doesn’t take away from the sentence I just said. Also, I love you.”

“I know this. And I don’t want to sound like the omniscient narrator of your life story considering I’ve only known you for a couple of years but like... Jaemin,” Jeno says, as if tentatively approaching a startled deer. “You know you’ve been in love with Donghyuck since first year, right?”

_What._

“What?” He says, laughing nervously, because _what?_

“Yeah, I mean, like. Not to be an asshole, but you’re kinda obvious?”

Jaemin checks for any sign of a crack in Jeno’s obvious façade. It was a complete joke, it _had_ to be. Right?

“Jeno, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me this is news. Dude,” Jeno starts, pitching forward as his eyebrows comically disappear under his fringe. “Seriously?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jaemin says, face a careful blank. There was a headache beginning at the back of his eyes the more Jeno’s words bounced around his head.

“Don’t you remember the first year New Year’s party?”

Of course he did. Kind of, only because he got absolutely smashed and spent most of it clinging onto Yukhei as the other became a ward against people attempting to give him more drinks, but he remembered it alright.

 

*

 

“Jenooooo, I’m so happy we’re frieeends,” Jaemin had sung, crown of his head nuzzling into Jeno from where he sat on the counter. They were at Yerim’s uni house, her New Year’s Eve party being the topic of most people’s conversation ever since it was announced in the middle of November. Most people had gone home for Christmas, but some (like Jaemin) had travelled back up to uni for it.

Yerim’s house was, without a doubt, the best he’d seen as of yet. Eighteen and living in a three storey? That was legend status. Despite the fact she was living with a total of five people, it meant there was a surplus of guest bedrooms and lots of places to hang out when the kitchen and living room spaces got too much.

Right now, though, it was perfect for the happily buzzed Jaemin who was spending his time crying his friend’s praises. Yukhei was in the corner across the room, wooing a pretty second year with regalia of his time spent abroad, but every so often he looked over at Jaemin to make sure he wasn’t pulled into doing any more shots.

(There had been a lot of shots.)

Jeno stood between Jaemin’s parted knees with a hand braced against the counter next to the crook of Jaemin’s knee, effectively caging him down whilst Renjun was showing him the meme of Kylie Jenner posing in front of the glass doors of the designer store separating her from the legions of her hungry fans and explaining to him the power of the bourgeoisie vs. the proletariat.

“Renjunnie too, oh, I love you guys…” Jaemin’s emotional outbursts seemed to be falling of deaf ears. He was okay with that though. He loved his friends _so much._

 _Where’s Duckie?_ He wondered, then, head lifting eyes drifting over the heads that occupied the dark kitchen, lit up only by Jiwoo’s gaudy plug-in disco lights by the drinks table. He could see Gahyeon and Yewon swaying from side to side as they chatted, drinks clasped in their hands, and past them; Hyunjin spinning Heejin around to the upbeat pop music Jaemin can’t remember the name of. No Duckie. No Mark, either, but most important at this moment in time: No Duckie.

“Hey, hey,” Jaemin says, prodding at Jeno’s shoulder until the other turned around with a hazy smile, the Malibu in his hand making his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, Nana?” He replies, and a smooth grin unfolds over Jaemin’s face. That beautiful bastard was _his_ best friend.

“Where’s Duckie?”

“Ummmm... I don’t know, where _is_ Duckie?” Jeno asks, turning back to Renjun. The oldest between them stops then, locking his phone and scratching at his cheek as he glances around to scan the kitchen.

“Not here, that’s for sure,” Renjun said, voice kind of husky from drinking. He’d long lost his cup in the sea of red plastic on the island a while back, but it sounded like he was still a bit waved. Jaemin respected that.

“I’m on the hunt,” Jaemin said, pushing Jeno away with a surprisingly strong shove to the small of his back and sliding off the counter. He didn’t stagger, which he was proud of quite frankly, considering every so often the room started to spin in a counter-clockwise fashion.

“Want us to come with?” Renjun said, reaching out to straighten Jaemin’s askew denim jacket collar. Jaemin waved him off, brilliant grin back in place.

“I’m good! Stay, be merry and gay, the usual,” Jaemin replied candidly, moving before he finished his sentence. Jeno and Renjun look after him, shaking their heads with alcohol-tinted mirth as he disappears into the crowd and slipping through the threshold. Or, he meant to, except a long arm blocks the front of his chest and he bounces backwards comically.

“Where are you off to?”

Yukhei is somehow standing there despite being on the other side of the room just moments before, looking down at him with a suspicious(ly tipsy) expression. Jaemin flashes his most charming smile, toothy and alluring in order to slip past Yukhei.

 

**WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)**

  1. Try and barrel your way through. In the wise words of _Going on a Bear Hunt_ , if you can’t go over it and you can’t go under it, you’re gonna have to go through it. (+ATK, ...-INT)


  1. Do a 180 and return to fawning over Jeno and Renjun the rest of the night. Donghyuck is lost to the world but his other best friends, whomst he loves so much, are not. (+CHR)
  2. Be honest. This is Yukhei, we’re talking about. They’re not even that particularly close but he knows for a fact Yukhei is amongst the many people that would never quite get out from under Donghyuck’s spell. He would understand. (+GUTS)



 

“I’m going to find Donghyuck, I haven’t seen him in like, an hour,” Jaemin said, mildly hurt at this reaction. His entire thing was charm! This was disheartening. “Let me pass, Gandalf.”

“Are you sure this is what Sober Jaemin would want to do?” Yukhei asked then, unsure, and Jaemin reached up to pet his cheek comfortingly, but missed and tapped at his chin instead. Yukhei’s face screwed up in a cute manner at the tap, and he backed off slightly, leaving an opening that Jaemin genuinely believes he can dive through if needs be.

“First of all, Sober Jaemin is a loser. Second of all, absolutely. Me and Hyuckie are one and the same, two halves of one soul, two sides of the same coin.” He was aware he was being dramatic, because they had only met around three months ago, but that wasn’t about to stop him. “If I don’t find him now I might _crumble,_ Xuxi. Do you want that? You want me crumbled?”

Yukhei backed off voluntarily then, gullible and naïve, because he should’ve known that if Donghyuck disappeared during a party, he was holed up with a new bottle of alcohol or some other mildly suspicious substance, holding a bunch of people in revere with his words alone. But, he didn’t, and so Jaemin was free to carry on his quest. “See ya later, kiddo.”

Jaemin slipped past Yukhei, sending him a wave over his shoulder even when the taller boy let out a cry of, “I’m older than you, though?”

There were more people filtered out in the hallway, crowding around a pair of someone or other’s new patent Fila Disruptors that rested under the radiator. Jaemin probably would have stayed were he not on a mission, his interest in expensive shoes his downfall when it came to his student finance instalment, but he stayed strong and resolute on his quest.

Sliding up the stairs, he started checking rooms. Maybe he was having a quiet chat with someone, or being mournful on Yerim’s balcony. He considered sending him a text but that thought died as he halted at the bottom steps leading up to the top floor, hearing Mark’s voice that, for once, wasn't scratchy with the indication that he'd drank.

“I’m sorry, Hyuck,” he said, empathic and passionate. “That's a really shitty situation.”

70% of him was ready to barrel up the stairs to go see his friends, but whatever rational part of him deep inside himself, the part remaining untouched by sambuca shots, told him to go slowly. He crept up the stairs, the voices getting louder.

“This is so dumb. I shouldn’t be crying over this,” he heard Donghyuck’s response, nasally and choked up, to almost prove that he was crying. “I just. Wish it was different. Whatever.”

“You shouldn’t disregard your feelings, Donghyuck,” Mark had replied with an edge. His voice — all of the time, really, was so kind. So wonderfully kind. But Mark had a way with his words that made you feel guilty for whatever negative thing you might be talking about at that moment in time, and Jaemin knew well that it often tended to light a match in Donghyuck. “That’s not fair.”

“To who?” The other sniffled, petulant.

“To yourself, for one. Your friends for another, even J—”

“Don’t.”

Donghyuck’s voice was sharp, pursued by a sniffle to ruin the sudden fierceness. “I’m sorry. Just… don’t.”

“Okay,” Mark said softly, and there was an extended silence that made Jaemin wonder what was going on. Yet, despite listening into the conversation, he realised last minute that he still had no idea which room they were holed up in. He clambered up the last few steps before calling out.

“Donghyuck Lee, where are you?????”

There was a scuffle that Jaemin couldn’t pin down, confusion swarming him, but he was sated when Donghyuck called out in a stronger voice, “In here!”

A smile flitted across his lips before he realised, following the sound into the second closest room to him, door ajar and printed with a sign that reminded him of his childhood: wooden, paint stamped in the shape of butterflies and tiara’s and, more relevant, skulls. In the middle, was Yerim’s name. _That’s so like her,_ Jaemin thought fondly, before pushing the door open tenderly.

Donghyuck sat near the headboard, pillow clenched to his chest and legs drawn up. He was wearing the socks that Renjun had bought him for a fake birthday present this year, the ones with the awful Prince portrait in dark stitching. His eyes were red-rimmed, but it wasn’t particularly obvious he’d been crying. The smile of his face was genuine, if a little strained, but he still managed to look radiant.

Mark, on the other hand, had an uncomfortable look on his face. Jaemin couldn’t place the reason _why_ he was upset, and any attempt to think about it fizzled out when his attention re-fixed every so often on Donghyuck. The hand splayed across Donghyuck’s knee patted once and, once Jaemin’s eyes narrowed in on it, slid off smoothly.

Settled, Jaemin promptly slid off his shoes and dived at Donghyuck, laughing buoyantly when Donghyuck let out an annoyed squawk as they collided. The mattress bounced, the blow softened by the giant plush toy resting against the pillows. “Let me on, too.”

“ _Get_ your lanky ass — Jaemin. You’re lying on my wine.”

“Oh,” Jaemin said, smile dropping as he registered the uncomfortable object digging into his knee. He moved then, retracting his arms from around Donghyuck’s waist and sitting back on his haunches. “Can I have some?”

“Be my guest,” Donghyuck said like he was eternally pained, waving him off with a sigh. Mark looked between the two, a dent between his eyebrows from where he was frowning, but stayed silent.  

It was cheap wine from the local corner shop to Yerim’s house, meaning it came with a screw cap (Jaemin’s favourite) and an awful taste. Great way of getting drunk though.

He tipped it back, a small snarling expression appearing when the alcohol hit his tongue and scorched the back of his throat. Frankly, he hated wine. Why he had even decided to drink some was beyond him, but he did, .

He opened his eyes then, to catch Donghyuck staring at him with an expression he didn’t see often. He couldn’t explain it, wouldn’t, even if you asked him, but something about the parted lips; the mimicking of the swallowing —

“If you get any rosé on Yerim’s covers, she’ll kill you,” Mark interrupted his train of thought, speaking easily. Jaemin blanched at the thought, and spun the cap back into place.

“She’d never kill me. We’re childhood besties.”

“No, you went to the same nursery as her and she ran you over with one of the life-sized toy cars before moving to a different city the next week.”

“Enemies to Friends is a valid trope, Duckie,” Jaemin bit back, handing the bottle over to Mark, who shook his head and patted his jacket pocket. The jingling noise that sounded made it clear he was designated driver for the night, despite it being New Year’s. Then again, Mark wasn’t a big drinker like the rest of them, and more times often than not he’d stay sober to look after the rest of his friends.

Jaemin offered it to Donghyuck, who looked at it for a moment, hesitating.

“Is that a good idea, Hyuck?” Mark said then, tapping an unfollowable beat on his own calf. Bad move.

“Bite me, Vancouver,” Donghyuck promptly responded, grabbing the bottle, spinning the cap off and flicking it somewhere across the room. Jaemin subsequently cheered out loud when Donghyuck stomached three gulps and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Mark shook his head, huffing out laughter that was tinged in annoyance. He slid towards the opposite side of the room from where he sat on the bed and got up, brushing himself down. “Yeaaaah, I’m going to find Renjun.”

“Wait, Mark, I’m — I’m sorry, I’m.” Donghyuck stammered, guilt evident in the way he set the bottle on the side counter almost immediately and reached out for his jacket sleeve when he walked around the bed and neared the door.

“I know,” Mark sighed, letting himself be caught and pulled a little back to the bed. He reached up with his free hand, and brushes Donghyuck’s then-dark hair back off of his forehead, ruffling it slightly. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids.”

He slipped out the door, and Jaemin leaned forward again, hands propping him up. “What’s the matter with you?”

Donghyuck bit the inside of his cheek and returned to his original position, back against the headboard and cushion cuddled against his chest. “Nothing, dude. What’s the matter with you? Did you need me or something?”

Jaemin knew a conversation swerve when he heard it, but even drunk, he didn’t want to pressure Donghyuck into admitting what was troubling him. Pursing his lips, he decided to let it go, and slid into more of a relaxed lean on his side.

“I haven’t seen you for hoooours,” the taller of the two whined, briefly checking his phone when it vibrated in his jacket pocket.

 _did you scare mark off lmao,_ the message read from Renjun. _he looks tired as all hell_

Jaemin frowned at the phone screen. He had just... existed. It’s not his fault Mark didn’t want to be around two drunk demons instead of just one. That’s not his prerogative. He locked his phone without opening the message.

“Ooooh, fair. I wanted to talk to Mark about something and it just got comfortable up here, I guess,” Donghyuck shrugged, usual sharp eyeline soft in the low light. “Definitely not been hours though.”

“No, you’re right,” Jaemin replied back, willing to admit it. He hated how the room tilted every so often, now. “But Yukhei, Jeno and Renjun were keeping me hostage for what definitely _was_ an hour. I had to escape.”

“Yukhei too?” Donghyuck said with surprise, the corner of his lips quirking up, probably at the thought of Yukhei warding off any more shots from Jaemin. “You’d think he’d be the enabler.”

“See, that’s what _I_ thought,” Jaemin exclaimed, slightly loud in the quiet atmosphere. “But sober me had other ideas and enlisted his help in case I got too fucked.”

“Oh Jaem, that’s so cute,” Donghyuck said with a sharp grin, more like the usual him. “The fact you think that would stop you is...”

He mimicked a chef’s kiss motion, and Jaemin grabbed his ankle, digging his fingers into the flesh visible just above the Prince stitching and grinning when Donghyuck yelped and kicked out, foot catching his knee. “You’re so annoying, fuck.”

“Your best friend misses you, tra... trav... stumbles about this stupidly big house for you and you treat him like this?”

His buzzed mood made him stutter over the words, but the glower was still adamant. Donghyuck grinned at that, reaching forward and catching Jaemin’s face in his hands, squishing slightly so his cheeks puff up.

“I missed you too, Nana,” The older one said, and even though he was clearly tipsy, it sounded sincere. Jaemin grinned against his hands, the corners of his smile a bit squished with his cheeks being pressed like that, but still as bright as usual.

“Hey, tho’. Aww you shure you’re okay?” He said despite the squashing of his face, eyebrows furrowing then and smile stumbling into something a little more serious. Donghyuck stilled then, his expression slipping.

Jaemin remembered the redness of his eyes then, saw the smudge of his eyeliner and reached up to thumb away the brown product dragged down by a tear or two under his eye. Donghyuck stilled under the touch but didn’t react, letting his own hands drop from Jaemin’s face and simply watching carefully as the younger seemed adamant on swiping away whatever mislaid product remained.

“I’ll be okay,” Donghyuck muttered back after a moment, a watery smile directed at Jaemin. “Promise.”

He let his hand still, caressing rather than helping in that moment. Maybe Sober Jaemin and all his accursed rational thought would’ve realised this was bordering on overly friendly, but he couldn’t come to the phone right now. He was d —

“Jaemin?”

Donghyuck was looking at him with an unsure expression, and the moment shattered. He dropped his hand with a thud against the soft mattress and laughed. It was bordering on bitter, and he was surprised within himself.

“Sorry. Drunk,” he said lamely. That wasn’t a fair excuse, he was completely aware, but he wasn’t about to address it.

“Yeah. Drunk.” Donghyuck said with a scoff, turning his head. Jaemin’s eyes followed the path of the moles that scattered his skin, before panicking and rushing to salvage however he had fucked up.

“Soooo. Midnight. Who you kissin’?”

Great job, genius.

Donghyuck’s head whipped back, incredulous expression on his face. “Nana.”

“What? I’m curious! Can’t I be curious? You got someone lined up? Yukhei, maybe. That smile can drive a boy wild. Or Yerim? That’d be scandalous... the belle of the extremely sordid house party. Oh my God, what about Ma—”

Donghyuck leaned forward once more, covering Jaemin’s mouth with his hands with a mildly panicked expression on his face making a laugh bubble up in Jaemin’s throat. In the soft moonlight, his features were starker; illuminated in the dark.

“Please stop talking.”

“Whymmf?”

“Huh?”

Jaemin gestured to his mouth. Donghyuck retracted his hands again. They smelled like Nature Republic’s Peach hand lotion, nice and light.

“Why?” He repeated.

“Because, asshole, I’m not kissing anybody. And they could be right outside!”

“Dude, you’re not kissing anyone? This is a tragedy,” Jaemin cried, as he slowly started reclining back until his back hit the bed. He turned his head to the side to look up at Donghyuck, who’s ears were turning redder as time went on.

“Shut up, dumbass, who are _you_ kissing then?”

“Ehhhh... I’m sure they’ll come to me sometime or other.”

“Is that how you live your life? Waiting for opportunities to,” Donghyuck grasped at the air dramatically, making Jaemin scoff, “take you by the lips.”

“It has... gotten me through this year so far mostly intact.”

There was a lull in a conversation as Donghyuck let out a high giggle at that. The question lied on the tip of his tongue as he watched Donghyuck cover his mouth.

 

**WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)**

  1. Move on from this, maybe kiss Renjun and deal with the wrathful aftermath. Self-preservation, except it really, really wasn’t. (+CHR)
  2. Kiss Donghyuck, and mean it too. (+GUTS) ( **ERROR // NOT ENOUGH POINTS** )
  3. Kiss Donghyuck, because if you’re both going to be lonely, might as well be lonely together. It’s the only course of action. (+ATK)



 

Jaemin watched as the giggles tapered out to little huffs of laughter ever so often, and opened his mouth to ask something that wouldn’t leave his through.

“Hyuck—”

“Shit, Jaem, look at the time!” Donghyuck pushed his phone forward into Jaemin’s face. The younger boy winced a little at the light, before letting his eyes refocus.

The lock screen was of Donghyuck and Renjun back to back, laser tag guns in their hands and striking the most ridiculously dramatic pose. Donghyuck has some red war paint on his cheek, a matte lip tint he borrowed from Yerim, whereas Renjun is sporting some on the opposing cheek. Jaemin remembered that day well, pairing up with Jeno as soon as the overhead alarm went off and he found him against a wall, hands up in surrender. They’d made an alliance, mostly because everyone knew Donghyuck, master of all general protagonist and action hero tropes, would link up with sharpshooter extraordinaire Renjun Huang, meaning it was either find an ally or get smoked by the two of them.

He thought fondly of the day, and briefly wondered when they could go again. “Jaem,” Donghyuck softly reminded him, shaking the phone.

“Oh shit,” Jaemin mumbled, narrowing his eyes as he looked properly at the time. 11:42.

“We gotta go, come on, I refuse to ring in the new year in Yerim’s bedroom,” Donghyuck said, relinquishing the hold he had on her giant teddy bear and sliding off the bed.

“Hey, hey. Help,” Jaemin whined, reaching out blindly, and then letting out a yelp as Donghyuck took his hand in both of his and _tugged_ until he landed in a heap by his feet. “You are the fucking worst.”

“Back at cha, let’s move.”

They head downstairs, hand-in-hand, and reconvene in the kitchen just as people are starting to shuffle out into the garden.

“Oi, Donghyuck Lee.”

Donghyuck turned then, to look behind him where Yerim revealed herself to be stood in the doorway with her tight across her chest, an unimpressed look on her face with Chaeyoung hovering over her shoulder. She looked stupidly, stupidly pretty, in an off the shoulder shirt that frilled out at the wrist, and high-waisted jeans. Her hair was thrown over her shoulder, nails painted a muted red, and Donghyuck’s smile grew twice as wide once he saw her. He cranked up the charm, hand slipping out of Jaemin’s to go and link arms with her. “Heeeey, Yer-bear. I’ve been looking for you all night.”

Jaemin looked over, a mild feeling he couldn’t place settling heavy in his stomach as he saw Donghyuck lean down and rest his head in the crook of her neck; at her quiet smile. The way that Chaeyoung was side-eyeing them both is somehow strangely relatable, especially when their eyes after a moment. He couldn’t identify the feeling, but he was about to touch on it— that was until  Jeno knocked Jaemin out of his reverie with a tackle hug around his shoulders. They knock into the counter behind him and Jaemin’s hip stung. A bit of UFL (unidentified foreign liquid) spills onto his shoes from the cup clenched in the older boy’s hand.

“I’ll sue you, Jeno Lee,” Jaemin grunted, hand covering the place that would definitely be a bruise in a matter of minutes.

“I missed ya,” Jeno said simply, moon eyes on show and instantly softening Jaemin’s hard glare. He was significantly rosier cheeked that earlier, and Jaemin slides his cup out of his hand to take a sip, or maybe two, he’s not quite sure in that—

“Hey!”

Jaemin looked up, guilty, eyes wide at Yukhei and Renjun who were standing opposite them with their hands on their hips disapprovingly. They look disappointingly sober, and Jaemin says as much.

Jeno giggled then, “Stop. You’ll get choked out.”

“I _will_ do that. No holds barred.”

“I’m a pacifist, so I won’t, but I will continue to look disappointed as I watch it happen,” Yukhei said, nodding along to Renjun’s acceptably violent sentiment.

“Oi,” a voice calls from the patio outside. “Ten minutes to midnight, we’re celebrating out here!”

Jaemin identified it as Siyeon’s high tone and grinned at the others as he tugged on Jeno’s arm. “Let’s gooooo.”

They tumbled out of the room, the brisk night air hitting them to where the majority of the party had relocated. It wasn’t a particularly big garden, but it had a nice overlook to the nearby nature reserve park down the valley. The sky was filled with smoke from premature fireworks — and beyond that, stars.

When asked, with the least amount of tact, _so Injun, who are you kissing tonight?_ The flush rapidly approaching his jaw and the nervous flick of his eyes to where Yukhei was chatting with Mark and Jungeun, on the edge of the crowd.

“YUKH—?!”

“Shut your mouth, _shut your mouth_ ,” Renjun hummed nervously, shoving a hand over Jaemin’s mouth. It wasn’t perfect aim, his index and middle fingers covered Jaemin’s nostrils and made it hard to breathe, which led Jaemin to the conclusion that actually, he might be a little south west from sober. That, or he just wants Jaemin dead. Both were plausible.

Jaemin pokes his tongue out to gross Renjun into removing his hand, but he holds steadfast, aware of the younger’s dirty tricks. Jaemin crosses his arms then, obviously dejected, and scowling at Renjun who carefully retracts his hand with a warning look.

“I didn’t appreciate that.”

“Well, I didn’t appreciate you screaming my business all over the. Well, the garden.”

Jeno cut in then, hands covering over Renjun’s and holding them tight. “Well, _I’m_ very happy for you.”

“Oh — it’s not... like that,” Renjun said awkwardly as he furtively glanced back over his shoulder at where Yukhei was. Jaemin looked then, at the way he spoke with his whole body, his million watt smile that managed to stretch over his whole face. Even if it wasn’t like that, Jaemin briefly thought it wouldn’t be that bad if it was.

“Anyways. You two. What’s going on?” Renjun asked, eager to move on.

“I’m riding solo. I’m passing the new year with Jesus,” Jeno said, tipsy voiced.

“No one?” After Jeno shook his head, grinning regardless, he turning to Jaemin. “Come on…  Jaemin, you of all people have _got_ to have someone.”

“That remains to be seen,” Jaemin said, suspicious narrow to his eyes as he scans the crowd for where Donghyuck had disappeared to.

“ _What does that mean?_ ”

“ _Don’t ask me.”_

 _“_ It _means,_ ” Jaemin said, turning his narrower eyes on his best friends. “That I have a pact with Hyuckie. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“You and Donghyuck?!” Jeno gasped, almost stepping back and bumping into where Hyunjin stood behind him. Renjun reached out with a steadfast hand to keep him stable.

“Me and Donghyuck what? We’re both partner-less, and if _you’re_ not gonna kiss us like I’m pretty sure we initially planned two Monday's ago at the SU bar, we’re gonna kiss each other.”

“Well, you better get on that, because in seven minutes it’s looking like Yerim is gonna get there first.”

“First she steals my health, now she steals my men… an evil woman, I tell you,” Jaemin said, glowering over at where Yerim and Donghyuck were organising the fireworks display the house had pooled together their money to buy, laughing together. He could hear them over the buzz of the rest of the partygoers. There were extra match boxes and sparklers on the side that had been brought out and slowly distributed by Chaeyoung and Saeron, but Jaemin couldn’t focus on them when all he wanted was to—

He one-shot the rest of Jeno’s drink, to a Renjun’s displeasure. “I’m going in.”

“Good luck, brave soldier,” Jeno said solemnly, taking the cup back and saluting him.

“Just, don’t get hurt or whatever.”

Jaemin nodded at those words, rolled up the sleeves of his denim jacket, and started making his way over. Donghyuck was still laughing at something Yerim had said, and Jaemin didn’t falter until he reached them, the older boy crouched by his feet.

“Lee,” Jaemin said, unfairly annoyed that Donghyuck could be so blind. Maybe this was the alcohol talking. No, it was definitely the alcohol talking, but he was still valid.

“Nana?”

Donghyuck looked pretty tonight. Any traces of smudged eyeliner were gone, now, his graphic tee loose fitting and not tucked into his jeans for once.

“Can I talk to you?”

“You can try, but the sambuca and wine mix has made me kinda...” He waved his hand vaguely, screwing his face up. He wobbled when he stood up, and Jaemin took advantage of the moment by slipping his hand into his. He tugged, moving before Donghyuck is ready and the boy staggered a little as they headed back, away from Yerim who honestly wasn’t paying them more than a glance. “Jaemin, if you pull too hard I’m gonna vomit on your new shoes.”

“Kiss me.”

He said it simply, easy, because it was. His face was blank, eyebrows furrowed as he peered at Donghyuck, at his reaction. It was fun rendering him speechless, he decided. Even in the dimly lit garden, the slight tilt of his head, the wide stretch of his eyes, the red tipped ears were all incredibly entertaining.

“Did you hit your head?”

Jaemin grumbled at that, “Not like that, idiot. I need to kiss someone tonight, and I haven’t found anyone yet. It’s a completely platonic thing. You haven’t got anyone,” he paused, then, leaning impossibly closer, “right?”

Donghyuck leaned back slightly, unable to go really far because of Jaemin’s grip on his hand but tried his best, anyways. Jaemin tried not to deflate. “Well — no, you know that, but...”

“Well, then. Me. Pick me.”

“But—”

“Listen, I’ve been kissing people into the New Year ever since I was fifteen and the girl in my Modern Foreign Languages class stole my first at a stupid Highschool party. Then... I’ve just been lucky, whatever, we won’t dwell but that’s— that’s three solid years of kisses. I’m not willing to break that streak.”

It is general consensus, that around that time is when Jaemin doesn’t hear the countdown begin. It’s just them, a few stray sparklers in the cool breeze and Jaemin urging Donghyuck to go along with him, just this once.

_10._

_9._

“I’m just saying, dude, we’re both lonely. We can be lonely together.”

_7._

“Nana...” He started, looking over his shoulder. Mark was there, no longer in the edge of the crowd but had migrated over to where Renjun and the others were, Yukhei in tow. He didn’t look pleased, and Jaemin couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. Unless,  _shit._

_6._

_5._

“Wait, was I fu— was I _right_? Were you gonna kiss Mark? Shit, I’m sorry, I’ll steal one from Jeno or something.”

“Jaem—”

_4._

_3._

“Aw, Hyuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt like that about him. I can honestly go grab Jeno, it’s not a bi—”

Jaemin felt lips on his before he acknowledged the scattered cheers of _Happy New Year!_ around him. The fireworks that are bursting prematurely or otherwise around him were adding to the heady feeling of passing another New Year like this. Donghyuck was shy at first, which was funny because he’s _seen_ him on nights out, and he’s anything but, but this was different somehow. His hands were bracketing around Jaemin’s face as they kissed, cradling it almost like he’s too breakable, thumbs rhythmically dragging against the other’s cheekbones; the plush of his cheek. He pushed forward, one hand sliding down to cup his jaw gently, and the movement made Jaemin’s skin feel hot. He was off-kilter for just a movement, losing the flow which results in Donghyuck kissing below his bottom lip. They both laugh, quiet and clear in the cold night, before Jaemin pitched forward to take the lead again.

It’s surprisingly... nice. Nicer than he thought it would be He didn’t know what he expected, especially when he found himself subconsciously sliding forward impossibly closer, chasing his lips whenever Donghyuck pulled back slightly. It was like they were balancing themselves, like someone was righting their scales whenever too much weight was added on one side. Jaemin’s hands, now empty after Donghyuck slid his own out of his grip, were hovering at his side but when Donghyuck pitches forward, he moved them to settle onto his waist; one aborting the movement and coming up to settle heavy around the base of his forearm. His fingers were splayed, and he felt the flashes of fireworks burn into his eyelids from where they’re closed but he feels— he feels—

“How do _you_ even remember that? Weren’t you drunk too?” Jaemin says suddenly, carefully ignoring Jeno’s heavy implications and the memory of soft lips— nope. _Nope._

“Not as drunk as you, Jaem,” Jeno admonishes, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t think anyone out of us was as drunk as you, actually. Maybe Hyunjin?”

“That’s valid. We drink a lot,” Jaemin shrugs, fiddling with his phone case on the corner, flicking it on and off. His own nervous habit. He didn’t think much about it. He wasn't going to think about much of any of this.

“So. Gonna like, acknowledge this?”

“Acknowledge what?” Jaemin asks, turning a carefully constructed, unimpressed look on his friend.

“The fact you’re painfully, unequivocally, irrevocably in love with Donghyu—“

“Well if you’re going to quote _Twilight_ at me, you may as well do it right,” Jaemin said, falling back again and hitting the pillow hard.

“Does anyone know that blurb off by heart, really?”

Jaemin waves vaguely to his pitiful excuse of a bookcase, containing the quatrilogy of the Twilight books, and a Serena Williams autobiography.

“Well, who’d’a thunk it.”

Jaemin groans, then, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I have a headache.”

“A Donghyuck-sized headache?”

“If I had a human-sized headache I would probably be dead, nerd. Maybe like, a cat-sized headache.”

“Sooooo, a Donghyuck-sized headache?”

When Jaemin starts to blindly swat at him, Jeno giggles, backing off. They’re silent for a bit, Jaemin’s eyes closed and Jeno tapping a seemingly random tune onto his desk, but Jeno opens his mouth once more after a minute or two. “I’m just saying, Jaem. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to come to terms with your feelings, you know?”

“There are no feelings. I’m an iron maiden with only a bunch of spikes inside. I’m spiky.”

“Well, fate and destiny say otherwise, my dude. And don’t lead Hyuckie on then, it wouldn’t be very nice.”

“Leading him — there’s nothing to be led!” Jaemin stressed, pushing himself up once more like some sort of springboard and then letting out a quiet howl when a muscle in his back twinges. Jeno pats his knee, looking sympathetic, and for some reason it only serves to make Jaemin even more incredulous. “There is nothing to be led. We talked about it. We’re — we’re best friends.”

When Jeno leaves later, and Renjun comes knocking to ask if he wants to order something from the local takeaway down the road like usual when they can’t be bothered to cook, the past few days’ events and his discussion with Jeno gnaw away at his stomach to the point that he can’t enjoy his 5 inch garlic bread meal.

 _It’s okay_ , he thinks, taking another bite and fighting through the feeling. _It doesn’t mean anything._

It doesn’t mean anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy shit, dude,” Jeno says, voice trailing off into a mutter as he took Jaemin’s lower arms in his hands and pushed him back to get a better look at his outfit. “God, you look like a hot goth.”

There were about three things that Jaemin was absolutely positive.

First, Friday classes, especially ones after possible emotional duress, were the devil.

Second, there was a part of him — and he didn’t know how powerful that part might be — that realised taro milk tea was not the thing that could rectify his problems.

And third, he was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Donghy— well. No. Not quite. 

He had his face cradled in his hand, trying desperately to look like he was paying attention. It was one of the last few Critical Theory lectures before exam week, meaning any information dropped here he could, at the least, absorb into his brain in one way or another. That didn’t mean he was doing particularly well, however.

“Pay attention,” Donghyuck murmurs, pinching the back of his hand from where he sat beside him; lip corners quirking up at Jaemin’s quiet scoff. He himself wasn’t doing much better, however. He had his phone propped up against his battered WHSmith’s pencil case, a Netflix drama playing with the volume set to zero and the subtitles blown up over half the screen. Any attempt at notes had slowly fizzled out, the words in granite on the page quite literally trailing off into scribbles.

Jaemin brings his hand back to rub gingerly at the skin there before uncrossing his legs and sending him a quick jab of the foot under the table. It was petty, in retaliation, but he knows he connects because Donghyuck lets out a low hiss and glares at him from the corner of his eyes.

“If I want to pass this class by physically absorbing Scraton and Flintoff’s chapter on gender, feminist theory and sport, then let me be me,” Jaemin grumbles, murmuring low so the lecturer won’t offer out a passive aggressive _Remember people: you are not obligated to be here. This is a revision session for your benefit, and your benefit only!_ and embarrass the both of them into silence _._  

“You gonna eat the book, big guy?”

“Oh, go back to Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Maybe I will.” A pause. “I think I actually will, this is that one episode — you know, with the bazooka?”

“Oh, the ammo in the chest? We watched that together.”

“We did. You couldn’t stop screaming about the ending, so I missed it.”

Jaemin hums in agreement. “I did do that, yeah.”

He isn’t looking but he notices Donghyuck’s attempt at trying not to laugh, the containing of the smile as he bites down on his lip and grins to himself.

After their minimal contact yesterday other than keeping up their (honestly, astonishingly long as of yet) Snapchat streak, and the two of them emoticon reacting to a few of their messages in the group chat, this was their first proper conversation since… well. Since _that_ one.

Jaemin had been nervous, was too preoccupied with worry that was painfully unlike him to get ready for the day properly again; instead shoving his hair into a tacky snapback that he’d got for free a couple of months back during the latest Fresher’s Week events and a ratty old hoodie that might of, once upon a time, been a Nike one. (The tick indication has long been scratched out through constant wear.)

Donghyuck, however, looked great. Like fucking always. He had walked in and claimed his usual seat next to Jaemin in the jacket that Mark had bought him for his last birthday before they all split off up and down the country for summer. It was a nice red, rich, taking the form of a bomber jacket and residing currently over the back of his chair. That left him in a simple white tee with some random words that didn’t have much meaning painted over the front for aesthetic alone; tucked into some basic jeans and looking like he just stepped out of Street Style Spotlight 2018. _Absolutely sickening_.

“Oi,” Jaemin mumbles after a while, leaning in close and reaching out to curl his fingers loosely around the other’s wrist absentmindedly as Donghyuck attempts to fiddle with his phone screen. When the lecturer turns around to write something lengthy on the whiteboard, he continues. “Gongcha later?”

It’s a minute reaction, but Donghyuck stills slightly, physically stuttering as he was in the middle of trying to pause the Netflix playing on his phone screen. He misses the pause button, instead pressing somewhere on the screen that makes the menu disappear entirely, and exhales under his breath.

“Hyuck?” Jaemin says, unsure and edging slightly closer towards his friend. His thumb absently rubs over the underside of his wrist. “You owe me, remember? I’m passing GO, here. I’m collecting 200 dollars in the form of milk tea.”

Donghyuck doesn’t reply immediately, instead reaching up with his free hand whilst looking straight ahead and pushing Jaemin’s head back by two fingers to the forward to get him out of his space. Jaemin almost splutters noisily, before realising he’d be in deep shit if they were called out and instead nudges him with his knee a little hard to prompt him for a response.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want.”

Donghyuck still doesn’t look at him as he speaks. Jaemin, with all of his ever-flowing ego, immediately boils it down to something he did. Or didn’t do. What was the right answer? Fuck if he knew. Regardless, the other’s voice sounds a little colder and Jaemin wilts slightly, sliding his hand off of Donghyuck’s wrist; sinking down in his chair with his arms crossed against his chest, not too unlike a toddler.

It’s all of five minutes of their lecturer droning on when Donghyuck nudges his knee, phone locked and pencil back in his hand.

“Hey,” he starts. He looks guilty but taps with his pencil where Jaemin’s elbow creases, where the baggy fabric bunches up. “Taro milk tea, right?”

A grin unfurls across Jaemin’s face before he can stop it.

“You know me so well, darling.”

 

*

 

“It’s still so freaking cold,” Jaemin complains to the sky as they head towards the closest Gongcha place.

Surprisingly, there isn’t one on campus, which means they have to trek a little further and in the opposite direction of their accommodation, but it’s not particularly awful. The walk is scenic, Jaemin thinks. There are a couple flower shops on the way, a UPLEX mall with a plethora of things like cafes and pop-up shops, various things as you walk further into town not too far away from the Ci Tech they went passed to get to the tarot spot. Jaemin blanches at that thought, quietly side-eyeing Donghyuck as they walked at comfortable pace.

Donghyuck laughs at that, a quiet sound, hands slipping into the pockets of his red coat and gesturing to Jaemin with them. He opens his mouth, then closes it again once they notice an upcoming pool of water on the pavement.

They make an effort to step around the various rain puddles left overnight, having to part from walking together every so often once they reach a decent sized one; reuniting at the end of the puddle.

They knock elbows when they walk a little too close to each other. Jaemin doesn’t dwell on it.

“At least you have a coat this time around,” he carries on pointedly, and the other looks down at himself with a twisted mouth. The jacket he’s wearing is pretty thin, and generally not all that warm, but it banks off the surprisingly-cutting spring wind that assaults them every so often. Whilst Jaemin, in all his snapback glory, is unaffected, Donghyuck’s hair is a little worse for wear despite it being styled today.

“Acknowledged. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about this turn of events.”

“The weather?”

“The weather. When’s it gonna heat up?”

Donghyuck laughs at Jaemin’s groan, indicating with a jerk of his chin to cross the road over to the shop in the forefront of Jaemin’s mind since the morning. As soon as they approached, the green light turned to red, and Donghyuck let out a long suffering sigh. 

“Summer, dumbass.”

“Speaking of,” Jaemin starts, a hand feeling around for his wallet that contains his loyalty card as they cross, “where are you spending summer this year?”

During first year, Jaemin hadn’t seen much of him until closer to Autumn. He’d gone off travelling with his family, then did a bit of solo exploring with Yerim that had resulted in his Instagram being a daily surprise each time.

(One time Jaemin had woken up on a particularly hazy sunny day, scrolled through his Instagram feed, and came across the troublesome two in the middle of France. Yerim was embracing Donghyuck in the iconic Titanic pose on a dock, and despite the dumb pose, he managed to looked like the very embodiment of the sun.)

When it neared a little closer to September, he, Donghyuck, along with Renjun and Jeno had got together to rent a little place in the streets of London for a bit, spending the long weekend together. It had resulted in ordering takeout by the water after bike-riding along the river, petty bickering in the midst of long-overdue cuddle piles and time spent with his most favourite people that he wouldn’t give up for the world.

It had been long, though. He didn’t realise how much he’d grown to depend on these boys that he’d only known for a handful of months. Sure, it was great to see his home friends again, but there was a bond between them that really couldn’t have been found anywhere else.

“I... don’t know, actually,” Donghyuck ruminates, looking contemplative as they wait by the zebra crossing.

“Helpful. Thanks so much, Hyuck.”

Jaemin takes the shove to his upper arm like a champ.

“I’m joking,” he giggles. He elbows Donghyuck, wiggling kind of. “Aren’t you gonna ask me, then? Huh? Aren’tcha?”

“I have zero interest, actually. Absolutely none,” The shorter boy shakes his head, eyes wide and completely mocking. “I can’t tell you how much I don’t — I’m kidding, Jaemin, fuck—”

Jaemin attacks before he can finish, an arm slinging easily around Donghyuck’s neck and pulling him in to ruffle at his hair. They shouldn’t be messing around so close to a road, and the old man waiting across it is giving them a dirty look for their childish behaviour, but Donghyuck’s dorky chuckle sounds like a song and it finally seems like their moving past this dam that was holding them back.

And, sure, it’s only been a day. But that’s a day too long for Jaemin.

“I _styled_ this today — JAEMIN, PLEASE,” Donghyuck exclaims between giggles, a hand coming up to lay flat against his chest and trying to shove back, but Jaemin was too strong for him. Jaemin doesn’t take into account the fact that Donghyuck almost always decides to fight dirty after a while until it’s too late, and subsequently lets out a squawk when feels fingers dig into his side.

“You’re a demon,” Jaemin snaps, letting go of his hold and looking up to see the green light practically glaring down at them. He takes off in long-legged strides across the road, and bites down on a grin when he feels Donghyuck grab his wrist lightly.

The other boy pulls his arm out from his side and slides into the gap created, gathering said arm around his neck and cuddling into Jaemin. His arm loops around to rest above his hip, settling comfortable as if any line or curve on Jaemin’s skin was there for his touch.

He tightens his hold around Donghyuck’s neck, not quite to choke him out, but if only to keep him there. Trying not to stumble, they walk the next few minutes with only laughs passing between them, until they arrive at the fateful place.

“God,” Jaemin says as he straightens up and slipping out of Donghyuck’s hold. He misses the warmth immediately, but he justifies that, considering it feels like iceberg temperatures. He was deserving of a little daytime cuddling! Sue him. “I haven’t had Gongcha in ages.”

“I’d say me too, but I made Jen treat me the other day, so,” Donghyuck says with a smug grin stretching across his face.

So.

Like he’d said before.

 _The Look_ was effective, deserving to be in italics with a whole book chapter on it if ever described in a penned biography some years down the line once Donghyuck became the most famous singer-songwriter to graduate from this university that everyone knew he is destined to be.

It was effective, and Donghyuck was a goddamn monster.

Jaemin laughs to himself, digging his hands in his pockets as Donghyuck heads in first, hand bracing on the door so Jaemin can replace it with his own and slip through into the warmth of the store.

“Ugh,” Donghyuck says, almost immediately, halting a little ways into the store. Jaemin thinks he does it on purpose, mostly because he’s an asshole, because Jaemin stumbles into him almost immediately.

“Why ugh— oh. _Ugh_.”

The place was packed. Specifically, the only issue with this tea spot, was the fact it didn’t have extra seating or a different floor. It was pretty small, rows of booths lined up one after another against a good half of the store, and a lack of a second floor, meaning if they came at a peak time (spoiler: after class) it was almost always busy.

“I wanted to sit down and enjoy it… there’s a homophobia joke in there somewhere,” Jaemin grumbles to himself, watching wryly as Donghyuck snorts at his words.

“Yeah, Gongcha has a vendetta against the gays. Shall we sue?”

“We’d need to have money to sue. I’m all for it if you wanna wait until our next student loan instalment,” Jaemin says, tapping his chin in the pretended of deep thought.

“Legal battles have been postponed for the time being. Shall we order?”

Donghyuck steps forward anyways, and Jaemin follows, like always.

There’s a short line in front of them, making it apparent that even if any booths become free, they’ll get (rightfully, but it’s still not great) stolen in advance. That’s just the pecking order of Gongcha. Jaemin had to (begrudgingly, of course) respect it.

Once Donghyuck orders for the both of them — “Can we get two taro milk teas? Extra tapioca balls for you, right? — Yeah, extra tapioca in one please.” — they stand to the side, by the little glass cabinet that displays all the flavour options in fake cups and pretty lights.

“Where do you wanna go after this?” Jaemin asks softly after a quiet while. It’s not exactly awkward, but he finds it a little weird like he has to ask. They’re best friends, frankly he shouldn’t even feel the slightest bit of hesitation, but he does. He fights through it all the same.

“ _I_ have a theory revision date,” Donghyuck says, sticking his tongue out. A weird feeling prickles up against the back of Jaemin’s neck at the words for reasons that he’s not willing to address, and he busies himself by freeing his hair from its snapback prison and messing around with it.

“A date?” He says, measured. Or, as measured as he can possibly get. Balance isn’t really one of Jaemin’s strong suits, he’s realised over the years. Very much one extreme to the other, with him.

“Yeah, but you know. There are keywords here: revision. Theory,” The elder raises his eyebrows at him, pronouncing them all prominent and mocking. “Also? It’s with Injun.”

“Boring,” Jaemin hums, letting his hands drop.

Donghyuck opens his mouth then, scathing comment no doubt lying under his tongue, but it seems like the moment passes. He huffs, closing his mouth to press into a thin line and looking away again. Jaemin pushes forward, not willing to think anything of it.

“If you’re hanging out with Injun, does that mean you’re coming back to mine? He’s smart as all hell but you and I both know his track record with the library.”

( **LEADERBOARD UPDATE:** Renjun has been in the library a total of: 3 times since the beginning of university.)

“Yeeeep. I think I’m gonna just meet him at yours actually,” Donghyuck drawls, still a little stilted but fond smile plastered on his face. He’s probably thinking about the time Renjun, three days into a sleep-deprived exam period, had said with conviction, _I would rather be found dead in a ditch than step foot in that soul-crushing institution._ “Don’t where we’re actually gonna go, though.”

When Jaemin goes to say something else, their order number gets called up and Donghyuck whisks himself away to the take-out section of the counter. Picking up the drinks and flashing a polite smile that melts into an eye roll as soon as he turns back to face Jaemin, he wanders back over.

Jerking his head to the door and keeping the drinks hostage, Donghyuck slips out of the Gongcha shop and back into the afternoon air. Jaemin follows suite (like always) and hounds him until Donghyuck begrudgingly lets him have his cup.

It’s cold, probably not the best time to drink it considering the current drops in temperature that were plaguing his daily life, but he can’t beat that taste. Their fingers brush when Jaemin takes the cup, and he doesn’t let himself think anything of the feeling that travels up his arm upon contact.

The walk back is... okay. Lukewarm, on the scale of things, and that’s at best. But it’s not bad. Their conversation is quiet, talking about exams and what they’re gonna do as soon as their last one is over, which probably consists of going on the absolute _session,_ but there’s a gap between the two that persists no matter how much Jaemin chases it. It’s almost like they’re on a precipice, walking the line of something not quite there yet.

They wander around the large puddle once again, joining up once they don’t have to hop, skip and jump their way around this particular piece of pavement.

“So… your revision date with Renjun,” Jaemin starts again, trying to be blasé. (Keyword: trying.)

“God, you’re really hung up about that, huh? It’s not a date-date, Nana. He’s not gonna pick me up at 8, drive me to the library and give me origami’d revision notes in the shape of a flower bouquet,” Donghyuck drawls, a sharp grin contrasting his tone of voice when Jaemin realised he’s been caught out.

“Shut up,” Jaemin says back, helpfully. “I mean like how’s revision going for you two? Asshole. I’m trying to be a good friend; can I not do that in this day and age?” He scoffs to finish his tirade, mouth running a mile a minute. Donghyuck side-eyes him, laughing as they keep walking

“I feel like Music Theory is a little different to Sociology,” Donghyuck continues after a moment, running his thumbnail over the pad of his finger again.

“I mean, you literally do a Soc elective, so I suppose you’d know,” Jaemin muses back. It was the only class they shared, and it was frankly one of the most annoying ones. The only good thing about it was having each other to bounce off of for the 2 and a half hours of the last lecture of the week every Friday. “Still. Music Theory sounds hard.”

“A lot of memorisation,” Donghyuck grumbles, kicking a pebble lightly. Jaemin’s eyes followed the rock. It travelled surprisingly far, skating across the pavement to breach the calm of a particularly deep puddle. “And I need to wrap up studying before I even think about the stupid showcase coming up.”

Jaemin blanches when he realises he completely forgot about that.

Donghyuck being an almost constant within the inner workings of the Dance Society, and by extension the university team, means that for special events like showcases and on-season performances, even competitions, it meant that he was usually the star of the show.

Showcases, in particular, were very important. They were a medium for Donghyuck to actually be comfortable enough to be serious about something, to show his friends the fruit of his labour. It _also_ served as a way for Donghyuck to get his ego fed through applause and cheers, and when everyone would bring him flowers and gifts after curtain-call, who was he to deny them that?

(At the end of last year, at the one and only showcase Jaemin had ever been to, he had brought him a bouquet that ranged from roses to lillies to even alstroemeria. This was because Donghyuck had mentioned that one of his showcase looks and sets rivalled something from a Hayao Miyazaki film over coffee a couple of weeks before, and Jaemin had found himself absolutely enamoured with interest to what it could look like. Donghyuck kept his lips shut, offering only ‘sunset’ as a hint, leaving Jaemin to immediately research flower combinations that could maybe link to that. He likes to think he didn’t do too poor of a job.)

“Hey,” Donghyuck says. One hand that’s not steadfastly clutching at his Gongcha cup is in his pocket now, shoved deep. He’s looking straight ahead, pausing to slurp noisily, and Jaemin bites down on a laugh at the sight of him obviously trying to figure out how to broach a subject. He knows Donghyuck.

“Hey,” Jaemin prompts him, smiling toothily as he looks sidelong.

Donghyuck doesn’t give him an exasperated look, but he definitely wants to if the twitch in his expression means anything. He keeps paused for a moment, but he finally builds up the courage to after a second too long. It’s as if he realised ahead of time that if he didn’t do this now, would he ever have a time to?

“You’ll come, won’t you?”

The smile diminishes ever so slightly on Jaemin’s face. Donghyuck still isn’t looking.

He chooses his words carefully, making sure to sip his own drink after he’s done. “Of course I will. I, ah. I got a lot of free time this year.”

Newsflash: the reason why he’s only been to one or two of the dance team’s showcases, is because it was usually the case that the tournaments were held generally around the same time showcases, or other dance events were.

During first year, after Theatre soc became a total bust, he turned his interest to the clubs that lined the university’s hall of achievements. He’d played badminton a couple of times in the local club down by his old high school, and, well, he had a shrine dedicate to a player in his _room._ So, it was only natural. And hey: Mark was part of it already. So like, friendship.

It turns out, post-tryouts, he was fucking good, too. 

He joins the team in a matter of months, becoming one of the star singles players, one of the best servers to ever grace the Uni courts, and he enjoyed it so, _so_ much, it was almost slightly painful. Well, almost wasn’t the word. Through over-practice, poor warming up (his excitement to play overwhelming the need to properly stretch) and other factors, he was warned by the on-campus doctor that any over use would result in a torn ligament.

Naturally, he didn’t take it seriously. He was careful for a while, but he found himself slowed down — held back. So he slacked. Slipped a little, here or there. Slipped a lot.

The day it all came to a head was just before the end of March. The match was in the semi-final bracket. It had started out well, Jaemin absolutely hammering the shuttlecock over the net with practiced grace. They had scored enough with the time remaining — at this point it was just Jaemin going to down on this unsuspecting rival university player with a penchant for not knowing how fast Jaemin could go. (He prepares a serve.) How could they? Jaemin was —

_going down, and fast. The pain feels something akin to an electric bolt running fast and sharp from the off-centre of his right knee, situated just by the bend and pummelling down even to the pad of his feet. He yowls, staggering and falling to the ground and scratching up his face in the process against the rough green of the court. He paws awkwardly at the painful area, face burying into the crook of his elbow._

_His racquet clatters._  

_Mark is by him in a second, a look of pure abject terror on his face, hands hovering as he says, “Jaemin, Jaem, what’s the matter? What happened?”_

_“My leg, my — my knee,” Jaemin wails, tears pricking at his eyes as the pain becomes unbearable, and more so with every pump of his heart. It was like he was being struck by lightning every time he breathed, and he —_

A soft touch on his arm startles him slightly, and he draws back. Donghyuck is looking curious, and a little sad.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, pulling his own hand back. He looks guilty, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t be sorry, Duckie.” Jaemin says easily, once he realises where he is. Once he’s not reliving the visceral discomfort, the phantom pain. He finds it’s easier to pretend the whole thing is not an issue. It is.

(He tears two pretty important ligaments, in the scheme of things. He’s told he can never play competitively again. Over the summer, he spends most of his time in physio, or resting. His escape to London with his friends is the first bit of respite he has in weeks.)

Mark continued to be on the team for a little while at the beginning of second year before quitting too, but Jaemin couldn’t bring himself to go to any games to support with the rest of his friends during the time being. Once or twice, he attempted to go down and visit in on his old team’s evening practices, but his anxiety worked him up too much to even consider stepping through the door. He went home alone every time.

“I’ll come,” Jaemin says softly, almost nodding to himself. They’re coming up on where there’s a dip in the road for access to the garage, where a large puddle of water has collected, but Jaemin’s eyes slide past. “When is it again?”

Donghyuck isn’t all too sure about just carrying on, but does so anyway. The cars zooming past give the puddle a wide berth, but — “It’s on the fourth of March, I think. I need to check the potential program again.”

“I’ll come,” he says it again like a mantra, elbowing him lightly. “You’re gonna look into the crowd and see a big sparkly fan board with HEART FULLSUN HEART. Maybe some baby pictures stuck on for good measure.”

“You wouldn’t,” Donghyuck says, stopping dead, voice dripping with horror despite his rosy cheeks.

“Ooooh, that’s where you’re incredibly wrong, because yes. Yes I would,” Jaemin smirks back, evilly rubbing hands together. It’s kind of awkward, because a whole cup is there, so he has to hold it in place with his thumb and juggle it to the side in order to do such a thing, but it’s worth it. “You know I’m close to your mother. She’d come through for me.”

“It’s always the ones you trust the most.”

His eyes draw past Donghyuck’s to the puddle again as they near it. It’s close to them, a little bit ahead, and _shit_ , that car is kinda driving too fast and too close, huh?

 

**WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)**

  1. Step 1: Zip up your coat. Step 2: Pull your hood strings tight. Step 3: Turn your back to the road. It’s everyone for themselves out here and your protection spell is _activated_. (+DEF, -GUTS)
  2. You know that scene in _the Little Mermaid_? The one where Ariel’s up on the rock, wind tousling her mane during the climax of Part of Your World, and the tide splashes against her all incredibly cinematically? Yeah. That. (+CHR, -DRY FACTOR)
  3. Teen Titan: Go! (+GUTS)



 

He’s not sure, exactly, what inspires this turn of events, but the first thing that happens is that he drops his cup. That’s the key point here, disregard anything else: the cup goes absolutely flying. The liquid spills across the pavement, but he has no time to mourn. As the car draws closer, he reaches out and splays a hand steady on the back of Donghyuck’s neck.

It’s like the climax of every generic K-Drama episode, that one painfully intimate (whilst still being the most ridiculous series of events) scene. The main character gets tugged into a fierce embrace by the possible love interest who hasn’t shown any affection up until this crucial moment. The main character and the possible love interest find themselves pressed together in a weird predicament, nose tips brushing. The main character and the possible love interest finally, _finally_ revolve around each other like planets and their moons, except, in this situation, it’s Jaemin and Donghyuck.

Jaemin asks himself, _why is it always them?_

Jaemin pulls Donghyuck towards him firmly and Donghyuck lets out a yelp of surprise, hands coming up to brace themselves on Jaemin’s chest at the sudden move. He lets out a strangled squawk at the sudden and franticness of the situation the moment he makes impact, not too unlike a distraught bird caught in a net.

Jaemin’s coat, unzipped and baggy, comes over to cover as much of Donghyuck as possible, which is kind of difficult because Jaemin is already wearing it, but the hand on Donghyuck’s neck pushed him so the older’s forehead is squished down against Jaemin’s clavicle. It covers the top half of him, leaving his trousers and everything below the small of his back exposed, but it’s better than nothing at all, Jaemin rationalises.

All whilst during this, they swivel so Jaemin’s back is to the puddle, and he flinches somewhat when the water — as predicted a mere minute ago — splatters slightly painfully against his back.

The car drives off, without stopping. Time moves on. Except:

“Jaemin,” Donghyuck is speaking quietly, measured, puffs of hot air leaving an uncomfortable feeling spreading over Jaemin’s neck with each breath. He’s muffled from where he resides underneath the water-resistant fabric of the coat. “What kind of bootleg superhero are you? What even _was_ that shit, you extending a batwing?”

Jaemin’s brain finally catches up to his actions.

He lifts the coat, fingertips digging into the metal of the zip. Donghyuck’s soft hair, a fluff of faded orange tickles at Jaemin’s skin when he raises his head to look up at him, all bemused. They’re close, impossibly close now, with Donghyuck’s hands being the only thing separating them from being completely pressed up against each other. Donghyuck’s nose is brushing ever so slightly at the edge of Jaemin’s chin, and Jaemin — he —

“Because those moves were awfully Bruce Wayne of you, Na,” Donghyuck continues on lazily. Jaemin doesn’t know if he carries on because Jaemin hasn’t spoke, or if he’s just continuing to tease. He feels a hot wash of shame creep up his neck, and he backs off. The hand slides off of the other boy’s neck a beat too late.

Donghyuck doesn’t stop looking at him with the same perplexed expression on his face, smiling radiantly all the same.

“My drink,” is all Jaemin chooses to say, looking away from the sun personified to the spilled purple on the pavement.

“Lil ol’ me is so blessed! My _hero_ ,” Donghyuck pretends to swoon, and Jaemin looks back. “However will I repay you?”

“Shut up,” Jaemin hisses as he starts walking on again, feeling like with every step he took his footprints were burning _LOSER_ into the ground. Why did he do that? No, why in God’s name did he do that? Why was Jaemin’s perpetual existence that of a Disney Prince, or a B-cut drama love interest. Why was this so typical? Why —

His thoughts immediately jump back to days before, at the tarot reading:

 _“Within your current time,” the older lady had said with a knowing smile, “your present, your inner feelings are simply budding; starting to awaken. I believe your relationship will evolve if you start being more instinctive in regards to yourself and each other_.”

Instinct? What kind of nonsense was that, anyway? Was this whole situation just… fate trying to fuck with him? Surely not, but there was a part of him that genuinely believed that.

“Jaem, come on. Jae—Jaemin, it was cute!” Donghyuck cries from behind him, laughter kind of fizzling out the sincerity in his words. “I’ve always wanted a personal bodyguard!”

Jaemin keeps walking.

“Jaemin, my sweet saviour, I am literally going to your flat. Don’t you abandon me!”

 

*

 

So, exam season sucks.

It had finally arrived, two weeks later, and it was kicking them all in the gut.

Jaemin has a momentary breakdown an hour before he steps into the exam hall, because recently he made the switch to blue pens only and now has no exam-worthy stationary ready. Yukhei leans over and gives him one from where they’re last minute studying around the table outside the hall, and Jaemin offers him his life as forfeit.

Renjun had to have done well, Donghyuck was sure as he relayed this particular story later on, except the moment he came out of the exam-conditioned room, he grabbed at Donghyuck’s sweater and screamed into the fabric. (It quietened absolutely nothing. They were promptly escorted off the premises by an irritated invigilator.)

Mark aces everything because he’s studious and _perfect_ , leaving everyone exasperated by him for at least a day or two. Jeno also aces everything, but it’s not as much fun to hate the human personification of a golden retriever, so he’s let be.

Donghyuck — well, Donghyuck was an enigma in himself. It seemed like he had, despite popular consensus, taken time out to study and actually be on top form, and finds his Mu Theory exams go pretty well. When he leaves the Soc exam hall with Jaemin however, wringing his hands with worry and ready to collapse on the nearest hygienic surface, he doesn’t feel as confident.

The rest of their friends have varying experiences, but the general consensus is that it goes all too quickly, and weeks later when they’re finally free and ready to officially crack on with syllabi of semester two, something dangerous is uttered into the cosmos:

 

 **jeno jeno jeno:** soooo i heard from jungwoo who was told by from doyoung that the lgbt soc is putting on an end of exams night at pulse 2nite

 **jeno jeno jeno:** can we get absolutely smashed plz

 

Jaemin opens this text, and a few others from different people issuing the same statement, hours later after a well-deserved, post-hell season nap. His eyes are blurry with sleep crust, but he can’t lie: he feels rejuvenated. He can take on absolutely anything, he thinks with a passion. Especially an abundance of free society member shot tokens at the most decent club in town.

He scrolls down the messages in their group chat, noting one by Renjun saying he’s _only going if they all go, lol_ , and for once, Jaemin finds himself agreeing. The fact is, he hasn’t gone drinking in months — not since before the end of term last year, not even during New Year’s, meaning he was a) not prepared at all for it and b) absolutely gagging for it.

Blearily, he starts composing messages to catch up with the rest of them:

 

 **james na:** fdggdskfjdsfjk

 

Astute.

 

 **rj:** good morning

 

It’s 3pm.

 

 **rj** : btw don’t know if you scrolled up but we’re going out tonight..... pulse??

 **rj** : i’m only going if u + hyuck + jeno go

 **james na** : :0

 **rj** : i think mark and like, quite a lot of others are going but its up to you i suppose

 **hyuckleberry finn** : i think it’s a terrible idea myself

 **hyuckleberry finn** : lets do it

 **jeno jeno jeno** : as do i, my dear squire

 **james na** : looks like i have no choice :P lets go ladies

 **james na** : pres??

 **hyuckleberry finn** : @ jungwoos!!

 **James na** : :3

 **Jeno jeno jeno** : :3c

 **rj** : :/

 

That brings them to now: Jaemin had just slipped out of the shower with a ratty but surprisingly still soft Primark dressing gown around his shoulders. He tries, and fails miserably to dry his hair enough with a towel in order to take straighteners to it as soon as possible.

“Why is the world against me,” he hisses to himself, switching off the tool, picking the towel up and flopping it back against his head. “I thought destiny was supposed to be my bitch?”

He stands up, aiming to go secure himself a drink in the kitchen and take a quick break, but once he opens up he finds Renjun leaning against the door frame with a bored look on his face. His hair looks wonderful, because of _course_ it does. Pushed off and down to make a off centre part, and Jaemin wonders for a moment if his own hair can work that magic. As of right now he hasn’t much hope.

“Oh good, you live,” Renjun says, not looking up until he finishes texting someone if the rapidness of his thumbs are anything to go by. When he finally does look at Jaemin, he muffles an ugly snort of laughter, and Jaemin ever-resolutely glares until he’s done. “Outfit for today? Very avant-garde of you.”

“Maybe I _am_ going like this. What of it?” Jaemin snipes, crossing his arms over his chest. The back of his head is still so wet that every so often a droplet of water slides uncomfortable down his neck and somewhere beneath the loose dressing gown but he stands resolute.

“You’ve got my support. I’ll fight the bodyguards for your rights and stuff,” Renjun says with a sharp grin, shoving his phone deep in his pocket. He really does look good today, which only serves to antagonise Jaemin further.

He’s in a thin black jumper that he knows will be shoved into the cloakroom later when he gets too hot, with a collared white shirt beneath; both of which are tucked in on one side, coming loose and hanging lower on the other. He’s coupled it with dark, cigarette cut trousers. He’s got a bum bag around his torso like a quiver arrows, which is great because that means Jaemin can shove his passport in there and not bring a bag himself. _That’s_ friendship.

“You look so good, Injun, and I want to die,” Jaemin whines, reaching out with grabby hands. Renjun (who is an expert in all things Jaemin) ducks back out of the way much to Jaemin’s displeasure, but there’s a smile playing on his face.

“You can too, if you get off your arse and look through your wardrobe.”

“I have nothing. Clothes-less. Unrelated, but also my hair looks like a freaking poodle.”

Renjun snaps his fingers, pointing at his friend as he leans back against the frame. “Fuck, remind me to remind you that we’re all gonna have a _Nintendog’s_ competition sometime soon. I’m talking frisbee throw, agility _and_ obedience, so start training Darling up.”

“Obedience,” Jaemin says, wistfully as he attempts to towel at his hair once again. “My mortal enemy. She’ll crush you and your little dog too, though.”

“She wishes. Anyways, I’m going out first. See you there?”

Jaemin pouts then again, ceasing his motions. The towel flops pitifully against his cheek, obscuring one eye. “I thought we were all going together?”

“Gotta go see someone,” Renjun says, avoiding his friend’s searching gaze. _Suspicious._

“Who? Who is taking away my love?”

“Jungwoo, you dolt,” Renjun replies, not denying the declaration of love which Jaemin solidifies as a solid win. “I need to borrow something from him and I know I’m gonna be too drunk later to remember so I’m gonna get it in advance.”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at the excuse, but doesn’t comment on it further, instead coming out with, “I can’t believe you’re stealing Jungwoo from me. My _other_ love.”

“Truly cupid on campus, aren’t you? How many loves have you got now?”

Jaemin reached forward and booped at Renjun’s nose before he could successfully hiss and back away like a scorned vampire. “Only one that matters.”

Renjun reaches out and grabs at Jaemin’s flank protected only by the thin Primark dressing gown. He twists, making Jaemin yowl and back off with his hands up.

“More importantly,” he continues like he hadn’t just assaulted his flatmate, “what are you wearing then?”

“I have no clue. I’m a blank slate, Injun. A blank slate with absolutely zero idea how to dress. Save me.”

“I don’t have the time nor the patience for that, buddy,” Renjun says, laughing when Jaemin pouted to the most exaggerated degree. “Black is never a bad choice. I have those Docs in my closet that are a little too big for me, if you want?” Renjun offers, when his phone vibrates again. After checking the screen, he makes a noise under his breath and pushes off the doorway again. “If you really have nothing, just look through my shit too.”

“So I’ll see you at predrinks, yeah?” Jaemin presses, peeling out of the doorway and watching his roommate head out down the corridor, keys jangling.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, tossing a hand up in a wave without looking back. “I’ll make you a drink before you come in, alright?”

Jaemin let out an acknowledging noise, following him out with his eyes until the door closed behind him and he immediately headed to Renjun’s room.

Renjun dressed really, stupidly well when he wanted to. Unfortunately, the life of a student had worn him down into the same old t-shirt and jeans combo, but Renjun’s picked-at-the-last-minute fashion electives helped him shine from time to time. Jaemin had met him the day after Fresher’s, at the accommodation office as Jaemin appealed for them to _please, for the love of God find me another place to live. I’ll take a cardboard box outside the Student’s Union over this. My flatmate is a literal demon._

Funnily enough, Renjun was having a similar problem in that his flatmate was a total living nightmare sent to scorn him from Hell and beyond, and figured out a deal that let Jaemin move into Renjun’s double flat and the other guys go off and be creepy together. It meant spending a bit more money, but it also meant necessarily no more scum in Jaemin’s immediate area.

(They’d gotten through the process quickly. _Do you believe in reverse sexism? What are your thoughts on Boris Johnson as our mayor? Any hobbies that involve shouting awful things at women from inside a Taxi?_ Jaemin had quickly realised a) Renjun was going through so many incredibly similar things that he was, and b) he was his soulmate.)

He slides into Renjun’s room, pretty tidy apart from where his A3 art book has fallen to the ground and a couple of drawings — sketches and full pieces — have sprawled out on the floor. Jaemin, after making sure his hands were completely dry, picks them up gently and places them on the closest surface, a table with space formed in a rectangle indicating that was its original position.

The table is next to the wardrobe, so Jaemin swings the doors to it open rather dramatically, hoping the solo flair will help reveal any magical items needed for his quest. Upon the first look, it’s not looking grand for his chances, but he decides to start small.

 **_MISSION OBJECTION UPDATE:_ ** _Look for the shoes._

He kneels down, pulling out the drawer that doesn’t really fit the wardrobe casing properly, sticking mid-way unless you give it a sharp tug.

There are various shoes, some designer brand trainers that he bought whenever Jaemin was around and ready to waste all of his student loan on every new pair in existence, but mostly either formal flats or quick, cheap pairs of ASOS plimsolls that go with literally everything and everything.

It’s only when he lifts up a folded plastic bag used to contain all of the receipts of these shoes, that he discovers the shoes he was looking for. They’re pretty, matte, and not like the usual Doc Martens he’s used to seeing. They’re short cut, designed for the hem to come under his ankle and instead of low-mid shin. Rather than dressy, they just look expensive, and usually Jaemin would just wear his Adidas Originals lest he spill tequila all over them, but boy, oh _boy_ were they pretty!

 **_SIDE-MISSION OBJECTIVE UPDATE:_ ** _Find something else to wear, dude._

He attempts to flick through the wardrobe and draw some new inspiration for at least _one_ outfit with these emo shoes, but there’s nothing that Jaemin seems perfect. Renjun’s frame is a lot smaller than his, so unless there was —

“Oh shit. Oh, _yes_ ,” Jaemin grins with renewed vigour, cradling the top he had found after pulling it out of the wardrobe. The one top Jaemin has been meaning to borrow forever. It’s a bizarre material, both bonded with stretchiness but a decent sturdiness to not let it get pulled past it’s intended threshold of stretch. It was pretty expensive, another designer brand that had put Renjun out of pocket and then found he couldn’t properly wear it anyways. He’d bought it recently, and had complained to Jaemin about how he couldn’t return it, but if it looked good, Jaemin was genuinely considering buying it off him. For a discount, of course. He had a golden heart, but not a golden bank account.

Making sure he was properly dry, he shedded the dressing gown like a snake skin and let it crumple up on the floor to leave him standing kind of foolish in his boxers. He slid the shirt off of the hanger, before pulling it on. Straightening it out, in the excitement he stumps his toes on the corner of the bed and he lets out a quiet wail, face scrunched as he hops the rest of the way to the mirror to see how it looks.

It’s designed to stretch, and stretch it does, just west of snug from how it sits on his shoulders and spans his back. The sleeves, though short, are baggy with extra fabric and end at the line of his elbow crease, leaving a nice tapered line of his waist to his shoulder.

Snapping his fingers upon realising something, he dashes back into his room and finds the now crumpled dark trousers in a heap on his bed and slides them on without a second thought, popping the button through the hole deftly and heading back to Renjun’s beautiful full-length mirror.

Kinda gothic. But in a hot, cool vampire who lives next door way. The light hair went a long way, he thought. Narrowing his eyes, he inspected the outfit deeper, before pushing off and heading to the miscellaneous accessories draw Renjun treasured. If he was going this deep, he need something bulky to offset the smooth black outfit.

It was pretty much always in disarray, but all of his best bits were here. His fingers dragged over the various pieces, from coloured sunglasses to berets in various colours, the newest of which being in blue. He didn’t stop until he came across a black belt that leant on the side of tech-wear, picking it up gently and running his thumb over the material.

“This,” he mumbles to himself, mildly crazed after how long it took him to get ready. “This is the final addition.”

(It wasn’t the final addition. He later went back to his room to fiddle with a few rings, choose which socks would go with Renjun’s shoes, and it took him practically 7 years to finally mobilise himself to leave his room to go meet an overly excited Jeno and Donghyuck.)

 _Are you done yet??_  Jeno had sent him a blurry snapchat of his face with Donghyuck in the background posing ridiculously with his back to the camera with a bottle of what looks like Jaemin’s old bottle of sambuca he’d left a while back.

 _yessss kinda, wait for me outside my door rn,_ Jaemin said, zooming into his face and mimicking the weird expression for a second to take the picture. He sent the snap off, before grabbing his ID and his debit card and leaving the room. He doesn’t bother with a jacket, knowing full well that whatever he’s drinking will warm him up in some sort of pseudo-heat drunk haze, and makes sure he slips his keys into his pocket before heading to the main door

Jeno is resting against it, back to door, as he chats to Donghyuck. Jaemin sees this, because the eyehole is partially constructed, and Donghyuck’s morphed-through-the-glass face is a little further back in the hallway. Jaemin grins as he opens the door in one swift movement, stepping back only slightly for Jeno to almost fall on his ass, letting out an exclaim of surprise. He grabs the other’s arm and hoists him up before he can hit the floor.

“Hello, dear,” Jaemin chimes, ridiculously relishing in what he had just done. Jeno turns to glare, opening his mouth probably to inform him just how much his feelings were hurt, but he stops stock still, mouth dropping open in awe.

“Holy shit, dude,” Jeno says, voice trailing off into a mutter as he took Jaemin’s lower arms in his hands and pushed him back to get a better look at his outfit. His completed outfit went as this: warm black shirt of Renjun’s, cigarette cut trousers that are also in black held up by the tech-wear belt. He’s got on shitty knock-off socks with the word Balenciaga stitched in because he can’t be stylish and moral all the time, and on his feet were Renjun’s docs. The theme is black, leading Jeno to say: “God, you look like a hot goth.”

“Stop,” he grumbles, hiding his face behind his hands as much as he can with Jeno holding him. Honestly, he hasn’t been out since Christmas. He doesn’t know if this is too much, or too dark or whatever, and his usually extremely buried shyness is resurfacing rapidly. His voice is muffled as he continues. “Is it too much?”

Another hand reaches out then, gently wrapping around his wrist and pulling his hand back. Jaemin opens one eye, to find Donghyuck then in front of him grinning all bright and _Lord_ above, why were you doing this to him?

Donghyuck looked stunning. That was probably the best word for it. The crisp white cotton shirt he had on was oversized and contrasted wonderfully against his skin that seemed to shine with flecks of gold. The two buttons from the top were left without a home, leaving a mildly dangerous dip just under his clavicle. He didn’t let his eyes trace lower and instead goes back to meet Donghyuck’s eyes. There’s lining of dark that’s offset by the faintest traces of gold, all smudged out.

His eyebrow was raised, but he doesn’t comment on it, smiling at him. “No such thing as too much, Jaem. You look amazing.”

The sincerity in the statement kind of blindsides Jaemin, but before he can fumble back a stupid response, Jeno chimes in. “So good! I’ll yell! I’m yelling!”

“Don’t yell, I have sensitive eardrums,” Jaemin says back, hoping he’s not flushing under all of this attention. Preening over compliments was sort of his thing. “And... you guys look good, too. Duh.”

Jeno practically wiggles at that, smiling wide. He was in a more relaxed outfit too, not too unlike what he usually wears, but a bit like Renjun’s. There was a thin, light blue shirt with white stripes underneath a baggy white shirt, tucked into dark jeans that balanced the line of comfortable and dressy. They all look really different, but all individually decent, and there was only thing that mattered that mattered to Jaemin: how they’d look like whenever the club photographer was prowling the scene.

“The taxi is coming in like five mi— okaaay, now. Let’s make that now,” Jeno says, brandishing his phone with surprise at the text that just came in. Donghyuck lets out a laugh, sliding his arm through Jeno’s and linking them, fixing Jaemin with a look.

“Well then. Shall we go?”

 

*

 

“Yes, we seriously got a taxi ride here — _no_ we didn’t walk. Are we dumb? Come and open the main door by the way, that’s the whole reason I called,” Jaemin says into the receiver of his phone, clicking end call in the middle of Renjun’s tirade.

“He’s gonna kick your ass,” Donghyuck trills from behind him, making Jaemin bark out a laugh.

“He can try. Which one of us was blessed with longer legs?”

“Yeah, and shit mobility.”

Jaemin gasps in mock horror, making Jeno giggle at their back and forth from where he lingered at Jaemin’s side. Jaemin was planning to drag him back, but the door to the block of flats opens in time, granting him safety.

There Renjun stands, purely unimpressed as he pulls the door open wider for them to come in.

“Truce?” Jaemin grins hopefully, noting Renjun’s sudden slip of expression into surprise.

“Definitely not, I’ll pencil a time in for you to get absolutely destroyed later, but damn Jaemin,” Renjun whistles lowly, eyes trailing down his outfit which makes Jeno laugh again. “You look good.”

“Stop it, I’ll blush right here on this porch and _then_ what will we do?” Jaemin says, his smile face-splitting to combat the shyness threatening to rise again. Renjun backs off, beckoning them in, leading them up the stairs and through the corridor until they reach Jungwoo’s door. It opens up with keys Renjun had procured earlier, revealing that the kitchen door is (illegally, Jaemin might add, it’s a goddamn fire door) propped open. Before they can adjust to all the people in the room, the four boys are immediately issued with a collective yell that makes Renjun jump in surprise.

There are a lot more people than are designed for a 6 person flat, that’s for damn sure. The lights are half off, but Jaemin can see his friends scattered, some sitting and some loitering around the table. Mina and Yerim are perched on the inner table next to the microwave, kind of like they own the place, despite Jungwoo’s uncomfortable glances at them every so often.

Jaemin grins impossibly wider at the reception, sees how he’s not the only one who’s made an effort, sees various splashes of colour and pretty outfits and he feels validated but his eyes zero in on the one thing that matters in this life: the bowl of Jungle Juice on the main table.

“You guys look so good,” Yukhei calls encouragingly from where he’s pouring drinks from it to a couple of girls Jaemin can’t see. Mark obnoxiously whistles from where he stands next to, Jaemin _thinks,_ is Yeonjung and Chan, but they’re kind of obscured by the other people mixing around.  

“All for you, darling,” Donghyuck shoots him a wink, fluttering a hand vaguely at him before making a beeline to where Yerim is sitting.

Jaemin watches after him as he goes to her, amidst the room laughing at Donghyuck’s words. It’s kind of like a television show. The audience gag reel playing as the two characters take part in a slapstick gag, except Jaemin isn’t really in on the joke and for some reason, now his mood is soured.

Before he can think about it a bit more, he’s tugged in a different direction with an arm around his waist by Renjun who escorts him to the drinks table where other people are busy mingling. There’s really not enough space, and he finds himself squished back to chest with a few people as they squeeze through to loiter around Yukhei.

From this side of the room, they can see that they actually do know most of the girls clustered over here. Siyeon is clasping a stereotypical red solo cup that Yukhei definitely bought explicitly to look cool at his pre-drink events, chatting to Sungyeon and Heejin, and Jaemin smiles at them as he grabs a cup.

“James,” Siyeon says wryly, relishing as the people around them titter at the nickname. “Soc exam. How’d you do?”

“Oh, Yeonnie,” he says, not missing a beat as he perches himself on her empty seat, leaving her bristling. Renjun had taken the cup, and found his, sidling up to Yukhei and unceremoniously shoving them at him to prompt him to pour them drinks. So, not quite _I’ll fix you a drink, Jaem,_ but rather _I’ll get my lackey to do my bidding._ Yukhei grins bashfully and does so regardless. “Absolutely aced it. No problems here. Smooth sailing, even. What about you?”

Her left eye twitches. “Likewise. That 20 marker question about the Power Elite? Smashed it.”

The gag was, almost everyone surrounding them knew the two of them had struggled. Jaemin hadn’t kept his whining a secret, and he was willing to bet that Siyeon was the same, but their rivalry that had been going on since first year left them never willing to show face.

His eyebrow spasms as he tries to keep his overtly polite expression. “Good to know! Can’t _wait_ for grades to drop.”

“Me neither,” she says, blinking a few too many times to be classed as normal. She takes a long sip, and when Renjun places the cup back in his hand, Jaemin copies her with fiery challenge. They look at each other as they do so, as if the sparks of a new challenge were beginning to burn, and the people around them sigh.

“It’s gonna be a long night,” Renjun mumbles, taking a sip himself. Yukhei reaches over and pats at his shoulder awkwardly in a comforting gesture, and Renjun tenses ever so slightly. Jaemin continues to be unaware, narrowing his eyes over his cup at Siyeon who returns it easily, and Renjun merely shakes his head. “A really long night.”

 

*

 

An hour into the event, it’s clear that everyone is finally starting to feel tipsy. This doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll stop, however. Pulse is a great club, except for its one flaw: the extortionate cocktail prices. Jaemin and his friends’ have left comments on the Facebook page time and time again, their favourite pastime really, about how their only issue is £8 for a Peach Crush is daylight robbery, but it falls on deaf ears. (They’ll never stop their crusade, though.)

It’s only when Donghyuck, Mina, and Jungwoo, after disappearing for a few minutes, come back with three bags of varying sizes and designs and announce they have something important to say, does Jaemin think maaaaybe they’ve had a little too much.

“Line up, losers,” Mina says, brandishing her bag. It’s black, with tacky, glittery skulls offset by red lipstick mark prints all over. Donghyuck’s is similar, leading Jaemin to believe they’re from the same set. Jungwoo’s, however, is the stark opposite, a soft orange all over. “Gay night requires obnoxious festival glitter. Fortunately, we have tons.”

“Oh god, I hate that,” someone grumbles from across the room. Jaemin doesn’t look, but he thinks it’s probably Woojin. “Not the glitter,” he rushes to add, “but like. The patterns. Festival glitter really is the most obnoxious thing.”

“That’s the look we’re going for tonight, dearest,” Mina says back with a cherry red smile, more mischievous than nothing. “Of course, you _could_ not do it. But that’d be boring, and I’d crown you a total loser.”

She’s only joking, but Woojin swallows, and nominates himself to be dolled up first.

They all get picked by different people, writing down a list on their Notes app and getting to work. Donghyuck grabbed Mark first before anyone else can, Jungwoo getting Heejin and Mina getting to work on Woojin. They’d joined up beforehand, discussing like a group of world leaders at a summit on what cutesy patterns to go for, subsequently just deciding on hearts being the main theme. If anyone wanted to go further, i.e. not just a medium sized heart on their cheek, that was their prerogative. Donghyuck himself looked like he was forming a plan, however.

The party resumes, but most of the people in the room are watching as the ringleaders start their work. They’re using their own brushes, but there’s a pile of makeup in the middle of the table, right where a ring of fire game was being played earlier. Jeno, Renjun and Jaemin are stood together nursing a drink as they watch Donghyuck prepare to, assumedly, go absolutely wild on Mark’s face.

“What do you want done then, Markus?” Donghyuck asks in a slightly clipped tone, twirling a medium sized brush in his hand. They’re close, a bit burdensome in closeness in fact as Donghyuck inspects Mark’s face with his free hand on his chin to garner inspiration on what would actually look good on it, leaving the older a little bit flustered.

“Uhhhhhhh,” he says, eloquently. “Whatever you think is best, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck, obviously displeased with that answer, chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, stewing over options.

“He’s really taking this seriously, huh?” Jeno mutters, making Renjun muffle a laugh behind his own drink.

“I heard that, Jeno Lee. See what becomes of your face if you try me a little more,” Donghyuck says, jabbing a makeup brush in his direction without looking.

It’s kind of terrifying. Jaemin loves it. He laughs loudly when Jeno freezes next to him, owlish expression on his face, and catches Donghyuck’s mouth twitch in a quelled smile. The slightly older boy pauses for a bit more before slamming his hand on the counter top in excitement. Mark jerks in surprise, but it’s lost through Donghyuck exclaiming in exuberant joy, “I know what to do!”

“Jesus, Donghyuck,” Mark mutters, his hand clamping over his chest as if to contain his heart behind his ribcage. Donghyuck coos at him, but ultimately tels him to shut up as he changes brushes. The medium one gets put down, and a smaller, pencil brush is selected. Donghyuck then turns, pushing his sleeves up to just before the inner crease of his elbow to reveal thin, tanned forearms that contrast against the pale shirt. He inspects the different bits of makeup congealed on the table: pots, palettes, and pans. He scans until he finds what he’s looking for, making a small noise of surprise when he finds what he’s looking for.

“Okay, Mark, if you move during any of this, I will literally make you disappear. Legally of course, but you get the gist.”

Mark’s nose crinkles as he laughs at the threat, which described their relationship all too perfectly. Dipping the brush into a colour Jaemin can’t see too well, he starts swiping the brush in minuscule movements diagonal and up above the mole on his cheek. It doesn’t take too long, but Donghyuck looks pleased at how it’s turning out from where Jaemin is standing.

“Ah... it tickles,” Mark mumbles, fidgeting slightly and leaning back, causing Donghyuck to tut and pinch his knee. After some touch ups, he leans back.

“I’m done for a second, you big baby. Now,” he says, finally leaning out of his space. His hand hovers over various compacts on the table before he sees what he’s looking for: a slightly busted, but relatively okay Nars contour compact. The mirror was the cleanest thing about it, gleaming without even one speck of product dust on it, and he brandishes it toward Mark like a ring box. “So, tell me what you think. The plan is, I wanna do freckles, but if you’re not okay with that we can leave it here.”

“Freckles? That’s a bit — oh, _shit,_ ” Mark starts, but his complaints die in his throat as soon as he looks in the mirror. Renjun cranes his neck to try and see what Donghyuck has done, but nobody can see until Mark twists his neck to see the design in different light.

What he’s done, objectively, is pretty cute. There’s two fairly small hearts in a colour mix of a pastel pink and blue. There are hints of normal glitter dusted across the cheek, that silvery kind that flashes rainbow colours with the reflection of light, and the small smile that makes Mark look a little goofy appears on his face. “That’s... uh, kinda cute, actually.”

He’s mumbling, and Donghyuck preens under the begrudging compliment.

“Don’t blush,” he says, with a shy grin, “you’ll ruin my hard work.”

He carries on until sparse heart freckles dot his T-zone, and it’s kind of funny. Mark’s outfit was relaxed, a navy pullover and track trousers, the only splash of colour being the orange shirt underneath. His hair was a rich black at that moment in time, too, but the addition of the glitter and the heart freckles make Jaemin want to go over and squeeze the life out of his cheeks.

He would’ve, too, if he wasn’t afraid of Donghyuck’s wrath at ruining his makeup.

At that point, Donghyuck turns after ushering Mark out of the chair and narrows his eyes at his three friends waiting patient across the room. They shrink under his gaze, Jeno trying to hide behind his cup, and all but one relaxes when Donghyuck calls out, “Jaem. You’re next.”

Jeno lets out a sigh, juggling his cup from one hand to the over to pat him on the shoulder.

“Good luck, dude,” he says, an expression of pure resolve, though for what Jaemin is not particularly sure about.

Jaemin downs the remainder of his drink, and squeezes by where Mina is painstakingly doing two red hearts on Yerim’s right cheek. She’d initially started with Yukhei, but given up, stating how he was _so freakishly tall_ and she _couldn’t get a good angle, God_. Jungwoo has taken over with a wry grin, pulling and prodding at the younger a million ways until he was at the perfect position to do the makeup.

“Welcome to the Fullsun Beauty Emporium,” Donghyuck extravagantly greets, putting on a haughty expression and flourishing a hand to gesture Jaemin into the chair. Jaemin can’t help himself, laughing immediately at Donghyuck’s actions as he slides on.

“Doll me up, doc,” Jaemin says, all serious, dragging his hand on the table a little after he uses it to help himself up. “I’m trusting in you to make me pretty.”

“Well, there’s no point in saying that, Nana,” he says, back turning as he looks at the products beside him as if he’ll change tracks and ruin Jaemin’s entire face. He doesn’t look at Jaemin when he continues, “your face will put me out of a job.”

Jaemin snorts loudly, if only to hide the way his heart almost definitely stutters. _It’s because you’ve been drinking,_ he tells himself, aborting the motion of going to grab someone else’s drink and instead gripping at his knees and holding still.

Donghyuck turns around then, amused smile on his face as he raises the small brush and the pot of holographic glitter. He dips it in before moving closer, “Like I told Mark, if you move, don’t expect to live past this night.”

“Mark didn’t get a direct threat,” Jaemin whines, nose twitching when Donghyuck began his ministrations. Each brush stroke was soft, and tickled him, leaving an uncomfortable feeling at the roof of his mouth. “Why’s he so special?”

The older boy before him dips a little closer then, narrowing his eyes at something on Jaemin’s face. He was mildly offended rather than flustered, until Donghyuck reaches forward to cradle the side of Jaemin’s face with a free hand.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, tapping his cheekbone twice with his thumb. Jaemin’s mouth doesn’t necessarily drop open, but he feels dazed as Donghyuck doesn’t do anything for a just beat too long. He isn’t looking at Jaemin’s eyes, and so he takes the time to allow himself to categorise all the little details of Donghyuck he doesn’t get to focus on usually.

The swell of his lips that are pretty, though slightly chapped.

The faint cube of moles on his cheek, plus the outliers dotted around.

The tendon at the side of his neck that strings taut when he turns his head to reach for a different brush.

In the ugly, student accommodation-provided lighting, Donghyuck glows.

_Ugh. I’m tipsy. I’m tipsy, and Donghyuck is…_

Donghyuck uses his nail to, Jaemin assumes, sharpen up the line of glitter product to make a better heart shape with his eyes focused on it. He doesn’t look at him whilst he does it, and Jaemin is left slightly gob-smacked when he backs off and continues like nothing ever happened.

“Mark’s special,” he continues to say after that, chewing on his bottom lip as he focuses, “because he’s soft. Can’t hurt those sensitivities too much.”

“I’m soft, too,” Jaemin finally recovers to pout, twitching again as the brush movements continue. Donghyuck pinches his knee like he did Mark’s, making Jaemin hiss quietly at the pain.

“Stay still,” Donghyuck warns, beginning a heart on the side of his nose, just on the cusp of his nose bridge. “You’re soft too,” he hums in agreement after a while, “but your temper is fun to mess with. Huh, kinda like Mark’s.”

“I feel like I should take offence, but I’m just focusing on how you admitted I’m _soft,”_ Jaemin flourishes, wide grin not even faltering when Donghyuck swats at him for moving.

He looks unimpressed as continues his painting on Jaemin’s face. “You are the human embodiment of a peach, James. You do shit like bring Renjun flowers for him to do studies of whenever you pass by the florist’s store near campus. How are you _not_ soft?”

Jaemin opens his mouth to reply, maybe even agree, but instead, he rears back to clamp down on a sneeze threatening to rise up. He twists out of Donghyuck’s reach, hand hovering over his face as he waits those precious seconds to see whether it’ll come, and when it doesn’t, he turns back to sheepishly meet Donghyuck’s eyes.

“Dude. Stay still.”

He looks annoyed, but Jaemin still can’t help himself. His skin is sensitive, and he shies away from Donghyuck’s thin brush once more. Donghyuck lets out a huff of irritation, and reaches out to slide a hand around the back of Jaemin’s neck to hold him in place.

He’s not particularly strong, per se. Jaemin could wrench himself out of the fixed grip at any time, but the pure embarrassment and surprise that its resorted to this is the one thing that’s keeping him frozen in a daze. He can hear Jeno and Renjun snickering in the background somewhere to the right of him, and he frowns, but isn’t willing to test Donghyuck’s mettle further by fixing them with a glare.

The hand on his neck is warm, an ever-present presence as Donghyuck continues to draw carefully, as from behind him Mina calls out to Sungyeon for her makeup to be done. Their faces are stupidly close, Jaemin notes. It goes by quicker than expected, as Jaemin works hard to not shrink away from the soft brush strokes, and by the time he blinks it’s over and done with.

When Donghyuck leans back, finally, he fights not to let out a breath he doesn’t know he’s holding.

“You’re done, Jaem,” Donghyuck says quietly as he breaks the silence, turning his back to wash the brush lightly. He doesn’t look back at him, and Jaemin finds himself wanting him to turn, to look at Jaemin and to — well. He’s not sure what, exactly. To look at him right now would probably be enough.

Jaemin’s saved from any embarrassing words tumbling out of his mouth by a loud cheer resounding through the room as Chenle bursts through the main door, an uncomfortable looking Jisung trotting in behind him.

“Chenle, Jisung, my sons,” Jaemin fake-cries, weeps really, sliding out of the chair and rounding the table to take them both into his arms. Chenle giggles, squeezing his arms around Jaemin’s waist and practically winding him. Jisung on the other hand groans at the ceiling as he’s pulled in by Jaemin’s hand on his collar, then between his shoulder blades. “You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“We’re not, kinda,” Jisung says back, blinking owlishly as he leans back to look at Jaemin. Chenle slips out with a pat on his back to go back on himself and tackle Renjun into a hug and almost definitely spill his drink, but Jaemin keeps Jisung in place. “Just stopping by and stuff.”

“Jisung. I trusted you with my whole entire being for all of five seconds. And you’re betraying me like this?”

Jisung sighs, before freezing and peering a little deeper into Jaemin’s face. It’s comical how fast his faux annoyed expression slips to one of interest, and Jaemin is only sure of one thing in this world: how he absolutely adores him. “Wait, before you express your disappointment in me, can we talk about what’s on your face?”

“Donghyuck did it. I honestly have no idea how I look, I’ll be honest.”

The taller boy screws his mouth to the side before looking up at where the lights were in the room. Grabbing Jaemin’s shirt sleeve, he tugs the hem and prompts the older to move into a better position. He stumbles a little at the speed of it all, but moves as instructed; Jisung sliding out his phone and taking a picture of Jaemin’s face a little burdensome in how close it was.

“Okaaay...” Jisung drags out the word, fiddling with his phone slightly to turn the brightness up before brandishing it at Jaemin, “here.”

Jaemin, frankly, looks fucking great. There’s something about the sweet coloured hearts off-setting his incredibly dark outfit that gives a feel not too unlike Mark’s. _Reminder to get a picture with him later._

“God, I look cute. Don’t I look cute?”

“Extremely so,” Jisung deadpans, but he can tell he isn’t being insincere and Jaemin pinches at his cheek. His words are muffled as he carries on. “But, like, what’s it for?”

Jeno squishes by them then as he’s called over by Donghyuck, who finally grabs Jisung’s attention and gives him a little salute. Jisung does one back before he can stop himself. His one vice always was strange hand signals.

“LGBT soc night at Pulse,” he continues, shrugging lightly. “You want it done?”

“I’m not coming out, though,” Jisung says quietly, looking from Jaemin to where Donghyuck is being antagonised by a wiggling Jeno and back. He looks unsure, interest threatening to spill over in his wide eyes but something holding him back.

“Think of it as solidarity for me, your very best friend,” Jaemin says, teasingly but reaching up to ruffle the top of his blonde head.

“That’s Chenle,” Jisung says, puffing out air that ruffles his now messy fringe. Jaemin squawks at the betrayal, moving to tickle him in revenge, but stopping when Jisung bursts out in nervous laughter and darts away. “I’m joking, I’m joking!”

“I’m just saying. You don’t have to come out to have it done. That’s okay, Jisung,” Jaemin says, hoping the soft, placating tone in his voice isn’t too obvious. Jisung looks back at where Donghyuck is now lightly painting at Jeno’s cheek with a hand clamped on his shoulder. “But if you don’t want it done, that’s okay too. Nobody’s gonna force you into it.”

When Jisung had nervously come out to him nearing the end of first term, he’d told Jaemin apprehensively that the last few people he had told hadn’t been the most supportive. With wrung out hands, he had looked the most emotionally vulnerable that Jaemin had ever actually seen him. He remembered, when they had hugged tightly and began the first of many J+J movie nights to come, that he would never let anyone hurt Jisung again if he could.

Jisung looks back then, screwing his nose up in the cute way he does, before sighing. “Maybe… later?”

“Sure, kid. Want me to get you a drink?”

“Okay but I’m _really_ not coming out,” Jisung implores, tapping on Jaemin’s lower arm for good measure. Jaemin whines at that, linking arms with him and pulling him over to the table instead of leaving him there in the middle of the floor.

“Whyyyyy,” Jaemin drawls out, except it’s more of a groan just right of an exhalation of air. “Why are you leaving me in the wilderness that is Pulse, all alone?”

“There are at least nine other people here at your pres. You are not gonna be alone,” Jisung replies back stiffly, pushing himself up and sliding onto one of the chairs. Jaemin reaches for the remaining litres of jungle juice, before pulling back. He wants Jisung to have a good night, not get absolutely gattered. He tells him to _wait there_ before sliding past Yerim to get to the fridge and pulling out a Smirnoff Ice.

“Jaeminnnnn,” Jisung whines when he wanders back over. He’s glaring daggers at the white bottle in Jaemin’s hand, but the sheer temperature of it is making his fingers numb, so he puts it on the table in front of Jisung.

“You’ll get what your given, young man. I didn’t raise a boy with a poor attitude.”

“You didn’t raise me, though?” Jisung splutters back, despite the fact he’s reaching between the colourful bottles on the table to pick up a bottle opener. Smirnoff Ice is essentially a university student’s WKD, but that’s okay because regardless, Jisung wasn’t going out today. Speaking of which...

“Why aren’t you coming out? Huh? Why? Why aren’t ya?”  Jaemin asks again, jabbing the taller boy’s side with his elbow playfully until Jisung twitched and smacked the other’s stomach.  

“I have training? You know, for that student ambassador job? It’s literally at 9am?” Jisung says, looking around the room with narrowed eyes, looking bitter and regretful about his life choices. “The only reason I’m here is because Chenle wanted to come. And, like. Because you wanted me to come, or something.”

He says the last bit a little quieter, kind of shy, pressing his lips together to make a thin line and still looking away. Jaemin thinks that might actually love him.

“JISUNGGGGG,” he yells, putting down his own drink he’s pouring gently before wrapping two freakishly long arms around the other’s thin frame for a hug, leaving Jisung to yelp. Nobody reacts to them, this being far too much of common occurrence for them to bat an eyelid.

If it were possible to have hearts in your eyes outside of popular TV media, however, Jaemin would have them bright and red, directed at Jisung and Jisung only. “Okay, okay, you don’t have to come out or stay long, but can I at least see you after training tomorrow for our movie date? Don’t tell me you gotta cancel that too.”

“Yes, yeah, whatever — Jaemin, please, I can’t breathe.”

Jaemin merely squeezes tighter against Jisung’s squawks.

 

Later at around eleven-ish, when a good chunk of them are sat all appropriately tipsy, glittery and in the first decent sized taxi to take them to Pulse, the topic of the society gets brought up. Jisung and Chenle have gone back home by then, and Jaemin is stirred out of his harried heart emoji-sending to the two of them by the change in conversation.

“The third years are notoriously hard to infiltrate,” Donghyuck says completely seriously, hand braced on against the rough interior of the car door and looking like he’s the head of some secret society.

“No,” Renjun starts, sneaking a hand around and under Donghyuck's arm just to steal his bottle. “You just keep embarrassing yourself in front of them and instead of owning it, you’ve now made it your whole vibe to be as insufferable as possible.”

Donghyuck’s eyebrow twitched as the car chorused in loud laughter. The divider between them and the taxi driver inconspicuously rolls up, a lone red light indicating he’d muted them out.

“Are you done?” Donghyuck snarks back, fixing him with a glare and snatching his drink back. The liquid reaches the sides but doesn’t topple out, to which everyone is very grateful.

“Vaguely,” he says, leaning in a bit and grinning at Donghyuck wildly. Donghyuck can’t help himself but smile in response, pushing him back into his seat with a hand to his shoulder.

“Doyoung is nice to me,” Jeno says from across the car, unprompted, souring Donghyuck’s mood instantaneously all over again. Jaemin got whiplash watching his expression from beside Jeno. The set-up was this: Mark was next to Renjun, with Jungwoo next to Donghyuck, Jaemin and Jeno taking the honestly quite dangerous fold down seats opposite the four others.

“Doyoung worships the ground you walk on, Jen,” Donghyuck grumbles, jealousy brimming in his tone. Jaemin remains silent, but remembers fondly of all the times Donghyuck had managed to screw up an interaction with the older year. (There were a lot.)

Donghyuck, despite his actions and how he says otherwise, truly did admire Doyoung. At the talent showcases, his solo's were things of wonder, and the way he treated Jeno like his own son (not too amiss to how Jaemin treated Jisung) was very validating from Donghyuck's position as one of Jeno's best friends. It was a shame that this display of admiration melted into shyness that somehow resulted in Donghyuck being the most annoying boy in existence whenever he was in a 2 foot radius of the upperclassman.

“I’m just nice to him! You could try being nice to him for like, once in your life,” Jeno says fairly, pursing his lips.

“Trust me, I’m trying,” Donghyuck says, groaning and running a hand through his hair. He’d dyed it recently, gotten help from Renjun like everyone does, and gone back to a mid brown. They couldn’t be bothered to do it properly, and it seemed to have tinges of gold throughout the new layers. One of the things Donghyuck always managed to secure was the patented Disney Prince Swoop™, fluffy waves of layers making him look well and truly Disney Prince-like. Jaemin was incredibly jealous, pretty much all the time. “Something about his face just makes me naturally want to be a dick to him.”

“Maybe it’s his reactions?” Jungwoo offers from the other side of him.

“I think it’s definitely his reactions. They’re basically the same as Mark’s,” Jaemin pipes up, and Donghyuck looks up at him briefly from his pit of embarrassment, and Jaemin offers him a lazy smile. His eyes slide past to look around at Mark as he mirrors it shyly, and Jaemin continues on anyways. “And you’ve managed to make Mark stay.”

“Mark’s stuck with me, alas,” Donghyuck agrees, beaming at Mark who rolls his eyes. He doesn’t deny it, though.

After a while, they pull up to the club, Jungwoo taking initiative and paying the lowkey annoyed taxi driver quickly with the exact change he somehow has on him, before they loiter outside for the rest. Most of them are dressed a little too warmly for the club, but it’s mostly to get away with not bringing in a coat, or for when they inadvertently converge in the smoking area later to socialise, so it's not too cold as they wait.

Yerim and the other’s pull up, and they all hurriedly go over to join the queue. Because it’s a society night, the usual (frankly, kinda drab) purple exterior of the entrance is decorated with various colours and a big banner hung under the huge **PULSE NIGHTCLUB** sign, two security guard scrutinising their big group but ultimately letting them in.

The inside is a lot more overwhelming than the outside, that’s for sure. With the sloping walkway that leads them to the double doors of the actual club, and before that the cloakroom and place where you pay. They shuffle forward, showing their membership cards to the final year treasurer, Kun. He wasn’t dressed up particularly spectacularly like his co-committee member Ten would definitely be, but there was the lightest twinkle of glitter under his eyes that complimented his generally handsome face.

Kun was the kind of upperclassmen that even if you didn’t have a crush on him, you kinda had a lil’ crush on him. He was wonderfully nice, accommodating, if a little shy. Also a fucking wonder at narrowing down Sociology theories. Jaemin knows well that he couldn’t have survived first year without the Sunday evening revision sessions he held.

As he signed them in (£1 entry for members!) and slid across free shot tokens (plus a couple of extra because they were some of his favourites) they immediately float over to the bar and redeem them. Jaemin and Mark go to hand them in whilst the rest linger a little ways off.

“I’m just saying,” Donghyuck continues as if almost to put himself at ease, over the noise of the crowd and the low beat of whatever current top 10 hit was playing at that moment, “maybe we won’t see them. Place is packed.”

“Nah,” Renjun says, adamant as he rests his elbows on the bar counter despite his best interests. “Jeno’s here. Fuck, _Jungwoo’s_ here. We’re definitely seeing Doyoung sometime or other.”

“I take like, mild offence,” Jungwoo says mildly from where he stands a little behind them. He pauses, and shrugs. “Actually, I’ll give you that. You’re seeing him tonight, Hyuck. Sorry ‘bout it.”

The shots come in time for Donghyuck to answer with him by necking back a tequila. Jaemin and Mark watch in surprise, halting the handing out of the shots before carrying on and downing them all together. Donghyuck curls his lip at the taste, but looks back at the bar longingly.

“God, I need another drink.”

 

An indiscriminate time passes, and leaves Donghyuck’s worst fear coming to life. Doyoung catches their eye from the corner table they’ve managed to snag as he’s passing across the crowded room with Ten and some of his course mates, and barrels over to fret over Jeno. Renjun and Jungwoo are missing at the time, and so is Yukhei, but Jeno is drunk enough that he just smiles and accepts it entirely. That isn't too unlike sober Jeno, frankly.

Donghyuck is off to the side in one of the seats, cradling one of the extortionate cocktails he fights so hard against the pricing of and looking enviously at them. Jaemin comes off of the dance floor, feeling light and his eyes catch on Donghyuck first, legs carrying him towards the boy before his brain can even think about it.

He’s well and truly buzzed by then, that’s for sure. He’d secured the picture with Mark, and the rest of his friendship group too across the night, and found so many of his university friends who’d also come to the same event he was almost kind of tired of socialising at this point, but he still felt absolutely wonderful, and that was a dream in itself.

“Hyuckie,” he hums, sliding into the booth with an arm slipping around Donghyuck’s neck. His free hand comes to pull the other’s drink in his direction. Donghyuck lets him, watching him as he sips brazenly with the same unhappy twist to his mouth. “How you doin’ this fine evening?”

“Don’t you mean morning?” Donghyuck says, frown slipping into crafty smile on his face as he watches Jaemin’s own expression contort. It was at least 2 in the morning, to be fair.

“You wound me. I’m wounded,” he complains, leaning back and settling into the booth a little more. Their knees are pressed together, and Jaemin is aware of the presence. “You know I have no concept of time. Or, that it’s a social construct.”

He waves vaguely.

“You know. One or the other.”

Donghyuck laughs, loud and clear over the raucous of the club. “I love that you’re so much more of a lightweight that me. It’s so much easier to make fun.”

“I’m just a kind, dumb boy, please let me live,” Jaemin whines, back of his head hitting the booth. His eyes slide close at the shift in perspective, head spinning slightly. He really wasn’t that drunk, he thought. Really.  

“You’re not dumb.”

He feels a soft brush against his cheekbone. His eyes slide open and try to focus back on Donghyuck. He’s dragging his thumb softly over the skin, once, twice, looking alcohol-flushed and pensive. They’re not particular close in distance but Jaemin, for a moment, feels like he’s holding his breath.

They look at each other, Jaemin’s mouth opening to try and form words, but the slow smile that spreads across Donghyuck’s face bowls him over. They’re interrupted by the embarrassing DJ scratch sound that hasn’t been relevant since the mid 00’s, before the velvet tones of Steve Lacy fill the club.

“I love this song,” Donghyuck murmurs lowly, but somehow loud enough that Jaemin can hear him. That or Jaemin is so tuned into Donghyuck at this point that anything is out of focus but him. He slides out of Jaemin’s space, but lets his hand drag across his arm to slide into his hand. Jaemin feels like he’s dreaming. “Come dance with me?”

Jaemin nods dumbly, tightening his grip on the other’s fingers as they leave the table. Jaemin looks back to find Mark staring at them weirdly again, raising an eyebrow once Jaemin matches his gaze. Jaemin tries to shrug, but it comes out more of an upper body flop, and he turns back to follow Donghyuck into the bustling crowd. They pass a couple people they know, Renjun dancing with a tall boy that looks suspiciously like Yukhei, Yerim with her chin hooked over Chaeyoung’s shoulder but her hand in Mina’s as they swayed, even Siyeon and the pretty older year Jieqiong dancing together, the one who made everyone’s tongue-tied despite her being the biggest dork to grace the planet.

Donghyuck doesn’t stop until he does, abrupt, turning around and twirling in Jaemin’s hold.

They dance, and they dance, for what seems like ages. Donghyuck is smiling like a gleaming star as they revolve around each other in tune to the fluid beat, the crisp white of his shirt a tinge of fluorescence until the lights shifted into something warmer.

Jaemin feels wonderful, frankly, if a little winded. He’s not sure it’s because of how many shots he’s taken (his constant downfall), or if it’s because Donghyuck’s presence is so staggering right now, but all of a sudden it feels like his emotions are bubbling over the surface. It’s like he’s looking through a kaleidoscope, the lighting now all rosy and soft in tune with the turnover of the music. It’s all love tinged, and Donghyuck is shining under the ever-changing colours to this stupid song that Jaemin actually likes, and he slows to a halt amongst the moving bodies.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asks then, his words almost swallowed by his drunken laugh as he knocks into Jaemin and goes to hold his hand again.

He’s not. He’s losing his mind. It’s official.

“Come to the bar with me?” Jaemin says after a moment, biting at his lower lip as he takes the metaphorical running start.

Donghyuck nods, head tilting. He’s obviously curious but he goes easily when Jaemin guides him back to the other side of the floor to the bar that isn’t used as much. He slides a hand on it for support (regrets, regrets, it’s incredibly sticky) and turns around to face his best friend, bracing him when he threatens to tip into the bar.

There’s a wondrous quality in his eyes, in the way Donghyuck is looking at Jaemin right now.

It’s the gaudy lights, the vibrancy as they flash haphazardly enough to give someone a seizure to the beat of this Kali Uchis' b-side, but _g_ _od_ if it isn’t beautiful. Donghyuck’s eyes are sparkling, effervescent with awe and Jaemin can only let himself feel a little bashful in this moment.

Under his hold from where they stand by the bar, he feels tremors. Little, miniature ones like Donghyuck is shivering in the slightest, or like he’s on the edge of that same precipice that taunts Jaemin whenever they interact, building up the courage to dive bomb into the waters below.

Or, maybe it’s him.

His hands haven’t stayed still since Donghyuck had grabbed them and tugged him into the swarm of people equally as drunk as them to go and dance; swimming away from the green light at the end of the dock that is Mark’s reel of laughter, Jeno's brilliant smile, Yukhei being a foot taller than anyone in the room and further and further into the heat of the dance floor. They thrum with the urge to be active, constantly.

He’s tapping along to the song playing that stutters every few beats on his flank, but he’s smiling. Smiling so brilliantly, uncontrollably in that very Jaemin way of his that maybe _that_ is the reason why Donghyuck is looking at him like that. Like he hung the stars, or something as stupidly poetic.

“What do you want?” Jaemin says, still not looking at the menu. No, his eyes haven’t left Donghyuck’s face, cartographing every mole, the expanse of tan skin, the miniature quirks of his expression that he finds ridiculously endearing, “I’ll buy.”

“You can talk now, huh?” Donghyuck replies, all smooth and slow. He’s got a smudge of lipstick on his cheek from where someone had kissed him earlier in the night. Jaemin is incredibly pleased that Donghyuck had decided to recreate his faux-freckles of hearts look on himself after doing the rest of their friends, because the colour looks so stupidly pretty on his skin. He continues on, anyways. “Theeen, whatever you’re having, big guy.”

“At this point of the night… tequila is a very bad, no-good, awful choice,” Jaemin says quaintly, leaning ever so slightly closer.

“You’re absolutely right,” Donghyuck hits back. His white collar is a little ruffled. Jaemin wants to straighten it for him. No, he wants to put his lips where the fabric is covering.

“And yet…” Jaemin trails off. Donghyuck’s hand has found where Jaemin’s is resting on his side, and he’s playing with it now between their bodies, other wrapped loosely around his wrist. His palm, kind of hot and sticky from where he’s spilled a drink or two, trails up from the base of his wrist up, up to line up their fingers and then interlock with the spaces left.

The pad of his thumb sweeps where the jut of Jaemin’s thumb joint is. “And yet.”

There’s a moment, Jaemin thinks.

To the outside world, to the people who aren’t contained in their romantic comedy, will they, won't they bubble that’s spanned just shy of two years now, it probably looks like this all happens at once. But to Jaemin, and this could just be the various vodka shots talking, it’s like time was being stretched out like a metal coil being pulled faithfully from both ends. It’s taut, and it’s practically mind-boggling to some part of him how it hasn’t slapped back yet, but Jaemin is fine with just existing here, he thinks. He thinks, and he stares, and Donghyuck is ever-patient.

The corners of Donghyuck’s mouth turn up slightly, and he cocks his head to the side ever so slightly. Waiting for the next move.

**YOU HAVE ENTERED A SURPRISE EVENT BATTLE!**

 

**OPTIONS:**

  * ATTACK
  * MAGIC
  * ITEM
  * FLEE



...

 

> You have chosen ATTACK.

 

Jaemin moves his feet before his brain catches up to his actions. He swears he can hear Donghyuck’s laughter, loud and exuberant, over the next song now. He's not sure what it is, not sure if he's ever actually heard it before, but it makes Jaemin feel like magic. Or maybe that’s just the feeling of Donghyuck’s hand tethered to his.

He finds what he’s looking for, stumbling blindly around the perimeter of the crowd converged on the dance floor until he spots it: a shady corner by the bar. He spins Donghyuck around to crowd him against it, their feet miraculously not stepping onto each other’s as they shuffle back. Donghyuck’s laughs have tapered out to giggles now, hands leaving Jaemin’s to reside, or brace lightly on his chest a couple of steps before his back hits the wall softly.

“Hey there,” Donghyuck greets, all lofty and wonderful.

Jaemin wants to complete the offer of banter, to rebound his joke of one of his own like he always does. But, honestly, he also wants to kiss him so badly that his heart feels like it’s about to beat of his chest. This has been building up between them all night, from the moment Jaemin opened his stupid door, up until now where KISS HIM, YOU FOOL is reiterated consistently in his head to the tune of his own pulse, and really. Who is he to deny himself this?

Jaemin can’t help himself after a beat of hesitation and he leans in. He leans in and just before his eyes close and he finds the other’s mouth, he sees Donghyuck smile. Not quite the patented smile that drives everyone crazy but rather something tender, something so overwhelmingly sweet that it makes Jaemin want to die.

The coil snaps back into place.

The song playing that surrounds them in the club doesn’t reach climax when Jaemin feels the soft press of lips on his, but it’s incredibly romantic anyways. It’s unsure, like their first kiss all over again, and the flashes of artificial light burning into his eyelids all bring back the feeling of their first New Year’s Eve together.

Except this time, the parameters to the equation have changed. Even drunk Jaemin realises that this is a lot more than a platonic way to pass the New Year, between friends. This is — different, and he isn’t quite sure what it means. He briefly remembers Jeno’s words from a couple of weeks back: _Did it reveal some hard-hitting home truths you weren’t ready to unlock yet?_

But only a small part of him is thinking about the logistics of the matter. Right now, Jaemin is really focused on thinking about how good Donghyuck feels beneath him, how he tastes like sweet strawberry mixed with the underlying taste of tequila. One of his hands reaches up to grab one of Jaemin’s, to hold it and slot his own fingers between his once more and pull it up suspended adjacent to them, the other resting over the resolute beating of his heart. Jaemin’s free hand holds steadfast on Donghyuck’s waist, moving up and down softly but never leaving where the warmth bleeds through the material of his shirt. Their mouths move together in tandem and it’s almost like a weight has lifted off of Jaemin’s ribcage — except somehow, he still manages to feel all choked up.

He tries not to smile against the kiss and fails spectacularly, missing the mark and landing on his Cupid’s bow instead. He leans back, presses a chaste kiss against the corner of Donghyuck’s mouth to make up for it, and feels the quirks of up-turned lip corners. He decides to change tracks, and lines a trail of, not kisses per se, but imprints of his mouth against warm skin down to his collarbones.

He lingers at the soft cut of his jaw, nipping at it and then immediately using his tongue to soothe at it, and the noise Donghyuck makes is heavenly, coaxing him on.

The free hand of Donghyuck’s that was resting on Jaemin’s chest still comes up to find purchase on the back of his neck as Jaemin heads down, down, the hand sliding up and leaving fiery path of phantom feeling as it tangled into Jaemin’s hair. Donghyuck keens, pressing into his hold and muttering something unintelligible.

The bottom of Jaemin’s hair is buzzed short, lengthening out into soft brown layers from when Renjun box-dyed and DIY cut his hair a few weeks back, and Jaemin marvels at the feeling of his hair being played with. Donghyuck knows this well, because he has both seen Jaemin with his head in someone’s lap as they absently petted at the strands, and has also been the lap he’d relaxed in, therefore reinforcing the age-old fact: Donghyuck knows how to play dirty.

When Jaemin seems to be happy pressing a chaste kiss just above the dip of clavicle, Donghyuck pulls. It’s light, and a reminder to _hurry up and get on with whatever you're gonna do, will you?,_ but Jaemin can’t help the high pitched noise that rumbles through him without him realising at the action. He can’t tamp down on it like he usually does on the off-chance this happens, because his inhibitions are fucked and Donghyuck is so, so wonderful, but the flare of embarrassment is all the same.

He laughs to hide it, but also because it’s funny, forehead hitting the curve where neck meets shoulder and he feels Donghyuck’s mirror the giggle, rumbling through his body. The hand in his hair lessens whatever remaining grip, smoothing down the strands. He really _is_ laughing too, that bastard, and Jaemin looks up with red cheeks, stepping back a little. Their only other link is their tethered hands.

“You’re so cute,” Donghyuck mutters, tender. Jaemin pitches back a little, to look at him from his awkward position. The smile has dropped off Donghyuck’s face now, and it’s not quite like he’s looking at Jaemin for the first time, but calculating something. Not quite detached, no, his emotions look like they’re running rampant, actually, and —

The shimmer surrounding them breaks.

Yukhei comes barrelling into them at that moment in time, at the _worst_ moment in time, catching Jaemin in a hug with arms looped around his shoulders. Donghyuck’s hand drops from where it resided in the fluffy mess of brown hair almost immediately, the other seeming to linger before relinquishing it’s hold of Jaemin’s hand. They both drop between them, a gap so, so easy to close and vaguely, Jaemin misses the warmth.

“Xuxi, if you — _agh,_ knock me around anymore I’m gonna vomit on your shoes,” he complains loudly once he turns around in his arms and clocks the giant’s grin. “I swear I’ll do it.”

“Where’ve you beeeeen all night?” Yukhei ignores him, squeezing his arms around his waist. Jaemin almost hiccups. “Hyuck too, I missed you both.”

“Am I this clingy usually?” Jaemin says, looking at Donghyuck but talking to himself. He wants to say, _I’m sure I saw you not 15 minutes ago,_ but Yukhei is squeezing the reason out of him.

“When you’re drunk? Absolutely,” Donghyuck says bluntly, looking past him, and Yukhei too. “It drives me crazy.”

He says the last bit under his breath, face a careful slate of blank. Jaemin opens his mouth to ask him what exactly he means by that (because of course, when he’s drunk, the carefully crafted brain-to-mouth filter layered with charm is inaccessible, and he’s left being painfully honest) but he doesn’t get the chance to, however, because Renjun interrupts by following after them as he pulls on the jumper he’d taken off half way through the night.

He doesn’t acknowledge Yukhei. Jaemin narrows his eyes at that micro-transgression, considering he vaguely remembers them dancing up on each other this very night.

Donghyuck slides out from where Jaemin had him caged in, crying out an overly-peppy _RENJUNNIE_ and trapping Renjun in a hug that borders on choking. He’s not feeling it, it’s obvious in his face, but hands loop around Donghyuck’s waist to keep him there anyways.

“We’re gonna head out, you coming with?” Renjun says in a voice that holds no argument otherwise. He looks like he’s long sobered up, and completely over it, and suddenly Jaemin feels exactly the same way.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m with you,” Jaemin says a little absently, as he and Yukhei walk in tandem over to Renjun and Donghyuck. Renjun offers him a waned smile, tired, before beckoning them to follow him to the main doors.

With help that’s explicitly the both of them holding each other up, Jaemin and Yukhei manage to make it up the drink-slick stairs and up the slope to leave the nightclub. All the time, when he wasn’t watching his feet, he was watching Donghyuck’s hunched shoulders. Renjun had slipped out of his hold by then, heading away to make a call, and instead of turning back towards Jaemin, Donghyuck makes a beeline to where Mark and Jeno are waiting by the taxi bay. He only allows himself to feel a little hurt.

Jaemin isn’t quite sure exactly what Donghyuck says but after a while, Mark’s expression in the dim light seems to splinter, and he turns back to face the others. Donghyuck stays where he is.

“We’re gonna walk back. Message the group chat when you all get home, yeah?” He says, his voice seeming to leave no room for enquiry.

“Wait, are you g— aaand he’s gone,” Jeno lets out a tremendous sigh, looking after them as Donghyuck sets off first. Mark follows, jogging to catch up a little and it’s obvious in their body language they’re bickering for some reason, but Jaemin for the life of him can’t figure out why. Not like this was unusual, but this seemed random. Before they turn the corner, Donghyuck extends his hand without looking behind him, and in a rare — or about as rare as Mark can justify — indulgence, Mark takes it. Not quite interlocked fingers, but rather something one would do in solidarity for an upset friend. Regardless, categorically even, it didn’t bother Jaemin in any way.

Or, he could keep telling himself that. The fact of the matter was this: he had kissed Donghyuck tonight.

Not because he had to.

Not because he thought it would be nice.

But because he wanted to. And that was a scary thing to admit.

Even worse was seeing Donghyuck wander back with Mark, and realising in his heart of hearts that he actually felt a little hurt.

“You ready to get a taxi?”

Jeno bumps into him, shouldering him in a show of companionship, but Jaemin’s mood has soured completely. He grunts, and lets himself be led by Jeno’s hand holding his upper arm securely as they join up with the remaining others. Yerim is nowhere to be seen, as are a few others, but Jaemin relies on the fact that Renjun probably created a group chat with the other more responsible people among their friends, and let them know they were heading off first.

He doesn’t say anything, not when Yukhei and Jungwoo slide out first, not when Siyeon surprisingly texts him to get back safe, not until he gets back to his flat and Renjun and Jeno both press him like an Ace Attorney game from the taxi right until they start to unlock the door to two of the terrible three’s flat.

“Let me drown myself in tap water in peace, _please_ ,” Jaemin bemoans after a while, louder and sharper than anyone is expecting. There’s a silence that fills their already quiet flat as Renjun and Jeno are rendered silent, and Jaemin allows his own sigh to fill it as he braces himself against the counter top.

“First of all,” Renjun says, “gross. We have Evian. Don’t be a Neanderthal.”

Jeno shakes a bottle, and chucks it over when Jaemin turns to look at them both. “Second of all,” he continues, a soft look in his eyes, “what happened tonight?”

 

**WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)**

  1. Be honest. (+2 GUTS, LVL UP)
  2. Be honest. But not too honest. (+GUTS, LVL UP)



 

“I kissed Donghyuck,” Jaemin says, after a gulp of the water he’s just uncapped. If fate is playing him like this, he may as well shoot the truth point blank. “That’s what happened tonight.”

There’s a silence. If his head wasn’t hurting from the sudden stress induced, pre-hangover he was experiencing, you could hear a pin drop.

“Like, not like a _you_ kiss right? Like a proper kiss. Like, you absolutely fancy him, kiss?” Jeno broaches then, unsure.

“Like... I kissed him, kiss,” Jaemin says back, plainly. His head really hurts. “It was a kiss. We kissed. It doesn’t mean some long, candid backstory. It was... a kiss.”

Renjun’s and Jeno’s faces fall almost immediately, and an irrational surge of anger sparks inside him. It burns, but he fights through it. “What?” He snaps, putting the bottle down harder than necessary.

“I can’t believe you still think that,” Renjun whistles lowly, shaking his head. He looks annoyed, and that only serves to push Jaemin further.

Jaemin splutters, irrational, because he shouldn’t even be speaking but he can’t find it within himself to plug the dam. “What do you mean? It’s not like I fucking bent down on one knee for him, Renjun. Why does this have to mean commitment? I’ve kissed you before, Renjun. Fuck, I’ve kissed Jeno before. I’ve ever kissed _him_ before. It’s all platonic!”

“Yeah, you say that, but if you’re feeling this bothered by it? Good joke, Jaemin,” Renjun scoffs back. Jeno looks uncomfortable, placing a gentle hand on the oldest among them’s shoulder. Renjun shrugs it off, walking to go get a drink of water himself if only to give him something to do. “I’m just saying myself. Our kiss wasn’t 100% platonic either,” he jabs a crisp water bottle in Jaemin’s direction, “so don’t kid yourself.”

Jaemin bites his cheek at that, looking away instead of biting back a response. It’s true, it wasn’t a friendly smooch to pass the time, but they’d moved past that. It was a first year thing. It was whatever.

He seemed to return to this blanket, blasé statement of _whatever_ a lot, recently.

“I’m just gonna say... like, to bring it back to the tarot thing? Doesn’t seem to be that fake? It literally predicted this. Or, okay, maybe not _predicted_ but mentioned something along these lines... destiny is real, huh?” Jeno muses, completely steady and not at all like he’s further confirming Jaemin’s fears. “Mad, that.”

Jaemin scoffs himself, looking away with a grin that looks painful. He couldn’t squash this feeling, though. He was completely sober when he was thinking about how wonderful Donghyuck had looked at the beginning of the night. The splashing puddle thing earlier in the month was all too framed well, and had been playing on his mind a lot more now exams were over. The will they, won’t they moments that had been occurring from even before the fateful tarot reading. Even tipping into the territory the kiss held had come easy, and that was what worried him.

He thinks all this, part of him agrees even, but the thing that comes out of his mouth is: “No? It’s literally not? I don’t know what’s going on, that’s fair, but we don’t — destiny and fate isn’t...” He finishes it off with a groan, rubbing at his forehead to try and fight off the slowly growing headache. He can't form words.

“I feel way too gone to continue this conversation, especially if you’re not getting it into your thick head, but just know this. Your actions have fucking consequences, Jaemin. Take responsibility. If you and Hyuck are gonna keep playing this weird game of cat and mouse, you better prepare for the one of three outcomes. Spoiler alert: one of them fucking sucks.”

Renjun’s voice is not particularly harsh, but it is firm, and Jaemin feels a wave of embarrassment trickle down his spine.

“Whatever,” Jaemin says, capping his water bottle and pushing off away from the counter behind him to head to his room. He knows Renjun is right. He knows that whatever they’re doing, whatever push and pull play they have going on isn’t healthy if they can’t communicate, but he’s so painfully afraid of change that the thought of Jaemin confronting this head on terrifies him a bit.

He closes his door (doesn’t slam it, because he’s not completely a child and he knows damn well he’s in the wrong) and, after getting ready for bed, against his better judgement, sends Donghyuck a blurry snapchat with something along the lines of _hope you got home safe!!_ ♡ in the secret hope it will spark something, under the guise of keeping up their Snapchat streak rating.

 

It’s all well and good saying this, however, except Donghyuck doesn’t reply to his snapchat until the very last moment.

The topsy-turvy icon of the hourglass plagues Jaemin’s every other thought for the remainder of the next day, when everyone is hungover and quiet online in favour of snoozing the Saturday away but the Snapchat he gets back at the end of the day leaves a sinking feeling in his gut: black screen, with a harried ‘S’ drawn across the screen in red and not much else. All in all incredibly unlike Donghyuck.

Even worse: now whenever he thinks of Donghyuck, it’s not dumb video-game competitions and late night coffee runs, but rather it’s the sensation of lips of his, a weird feeling like an uncomfortably cold hand is squeezing at his heart. He’s not got much idea on what to do about this, but just carry on as normal. That should be fine, right?

 _It’s fine_ , he thinks again like some sort of mantra whenever he knows all too well nothing is fine, knees draw up under the covers as he marathons yet another 2-star rated romance movie on Netflix. _Everything is fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh na james, when will you learn. when will you learn that your actions have consequences.mp4


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Destiny is trying to kill me,” Donghyuck mutters vehemently, free hand that isn’t propping him up going to pinch at his nose. “I’m being targeted by fate. What the fuck?”

 

Jaemin is not beyond admitting that maybe everything isn’t quite fine. Frankly, looking at his track record, this is a better time than usual. His stubbornness is pretty much Olympic medal-grade, and usually it would take a lot longer than this for him to realise that he fucked up. So. You know. Progress!

Then again, he probably shouldn’t be commending himself. He did, in fact, fuck up. There was no avoiding that.

Fact of the matter was this: he and Donghyuck hadn’t spoken properly in weeks.

He avoided Jaemin in person like the plague, coming in late to their shared seminar to sit near the front of the hall before skating off as soon as the lecturer showed even a hint of packing up. If he messaged Jeno to see if Donghyuck was possibly in their flat, he got a lot of unhappy emojis prefacing a simple, _not yet man._  Any messages were ignored, but it’s not like he had tried that much.

Jaemin was kind of hurt, too. It probably wasn’t justifiable, sure, but to kiss him and then not even give him a chance to explain how he felt, whatever the hell that was, was…

Well.

Regardless, Renjun didn’t believe that. Things were on the frosty end with him too despite Jaemin coming to both him and Jeno the morning after their mini-fight with an apology and breakfast doughnuts despite his own killer headache. Jaemin couldn’t blame him, but it rendered him to spend a lot more of his free time with Jisung despite living with the guy.

“Are you coming to help us with dance hall prep later on?” Jisung asks, Wotsit cheese dust on the corner of his mouth. Jaemin reaches over, blindly because he’s staring at the TV from where he’s slumped down in the couch they’re sharing, smacking Jisung a few times on the arm before making contact with the crisp packet.

After shovelling a few into his mouth, he answers carefully, despite Jisung’s disgruntled face. “Shit, I forgot about that.”

That was a lie. It had been playing on his mind as the days slowly tallied off to it. Jisung’s also a part of the team, and Jeno’s a part of the society, meaning there was no way in hell he could worm his way out of helping out, just because Donghyuck was going to be there. Really, he can’t even avoid this event because so many of his friends are a part of it at least some way or another.

Jisung gives him a sidelong glance of pure incredulity, before pulling the crisp packet back and out of Jaemin’s reach. Jaemin doesn’t realise until he slaps at the general area of where they were before without looking and pulling back his hand in confusion.

“I’m taking the Wotsits hostage until you get your head out of your ass,” Jisung says, all matter-of-fact, stern expression not slipping even when Jaemin makes a scandalised noise.

“You’re treating me, your utmost favourite, your _OLDER_ ,” Jaemin barrages on despite Jisung muttering exasperatedly that _nobody says that anymore, Jaemin,_ “your soulmate, like this? Me?”

“I have loyalties to Donghyuck, too, you know,” Jisung replies with eyes that held a lot of wisdom throughout his toddler years, and _oof_. That’s kind of a punch to the gut.

“You know too, huh?” Jaemin says quietly, after a moment to collect his thoughts.

“Who _doesn’t_ at this point. You should really have your dramatic lover’s quarrels behind closed doors, you know.”

Jisung sounds a lot like his mother. It’s irrationally irritating.

“You didn’t even come out! And, you know, not that it’s any of your concern by the way, but we didn’t even fight! Not... properly, anyway,” Jaemin trails off, refusing to look at the younger year. He’s much more interested in the movie that they’re attempting to watch, a stark contrast to their usual horror marathons every other Saturday.

This time around rather, Jaemin flicked through his List section and Jisung was surprised to see it was filled with Romantic Thrillers. In this one, the female lead who, by the way, is not getting as much credit as she deserves, was slaughtering zombies on the way to find her missing boyfriend.

Jisung was careful not to voice his obvious dislike of the whole situation but made his feelings obvious in the way he tore open their bag of crisps.

“I’m mourning, okay? Let me mourn,” Jaemin says, head turning so he can glare at his friend from where he’s leaning back against the headrest of the couch.

“I thought you were an iron maiden,” Jisung sneers back, and Jaemin screws up his own face in embarrassment. “Thought you were spiky.”

“Do you and Renjun just sit around and gossip about me?” Jaemin lets out a sigh of exasperated, feeling hot at his words that were clearly incredibly untrue as of right now being thrown back at him like a shitty frisbee. “Is that your hobby when you’re not being a literal Student Ambassador?”

“Not always. I have the most loyalty to you, of course,” Jisung says flatly, before chucking a single Wotsit crisp at Jaemin. It hits the soft of his cheek, and Jaemin splutters in indignation. “Doesn’t mean I have to agree with your... honestly staggeringly poor actions these days.”

Jaemin lets out a huff, a hand reaching up to absently thumb away the orange dust of the crisp on his cheek but doesn’t say anything in protest, choosing instead to look away. Jisung rolls his eyes, letting the lull of the movie fill in their silence.

“You travelled across Connecticut for _me_?!” The man on screen roars in disbelief, holding a large and impractical axe.

“You were stolen by raiders in the middle of the night! How _couldn’t_ I come after you?” The woman screams back, and honestly, Jaemin shares her anger. It had just been revealed that, not only is he fine in his new gang of criminal survivors, he was also _cheating._ Men really are just trash.

“Okay, this sucks,” Jisung says suddenly, reaching over Jaemin to grab for the remote. Jaemin pulls it close to his chest.

“Let me wallow in poorly written rom-zoms,” Jaemin whines, wiggling a little away from Jisung’s abnormally large hands.

“Just because you identify as the shitty guy on there, doesn’t mean I have to be subjected to this too,” Jisung snaps, finally managing to wrangle it out from Jaemin’s hands.

Jaemin winces, letting go easily as he turns to look at Jisung again. The younger looks uncomfortable, twisting his mouth to the side. “Sorry. That was mean, or whatever. Didn’t mean it.”

“No, you’re right,” Jaemin mutters after a moment, feeling small. He stares at his hands, fisting into the material of his sweatpants. “As always. My smartest son.”

“You’re clearly torn up about this whole Donghyuck thing if you’re just spending your time watching _this_ garbage,” Jisung pushes on a little quieter, timid as if he were attempting to catch a small creature and ignoring Jaemin’s jokes entirely. “We haven’t even gotten to see _The Endless_ , yet. You’ve been wanting to watch that since Halloween.”

“I miss him,” Jaemin offers in agreement after a while, tapping into any reserve of bravery he can muster. “Like, he’s my best friend.”

Jisung lets out an unintelligible mix between a groan and a sigh, a garbled mess of letters tumbling out of his mouth.

“Okay, he’s… more than that.”

Jaemin feels weird, saying that.

A flash of cold washing over him at the fact he’s finally admitted to someone other than himself, the race-car patter of his heartbeat knowing it’s the truth. Donghyuck is something more than a friend to him. And that’s the scariest thing in the fucking world.

“Progress,” Jisung nods, almost to himself. “You’ve both gone about this a really dumb way, sure. You’re both complete idiots, sure. You’ve tried everyone’s last bit of patience, s—”

“Alright, Ji, give me a break,” Jaemin grumbles, “this emotional vulnerability thing already makes me want to die.”

“BUT. I’m glad you admitted it, I guess. You’re so in your feelings it’s... painful, and I want you to like, smile again and stuff.”

“Promise me something, Jisung. Promise me you won’t ever date. Stay soft and innocent for both my sake and yours, my sweetest flower.”

“Well, okay. One, you’re not even dating him, and two, hah... How do I say this?” Jaemin pushes himself forward at that, eyes focusing on Jisung and Jisung alone with his eyebrows pulling together a bit more. “Chenle and I... went on a date recently, I guess?”

“Shut up. No fucking way. Shut your mouth. My son? My sons?”

“Your sons,” Jisung admits easily. He pauses, screwing his nose around before carrying on with a small smile filled with just a little bit of trepidation. “I don’t know... what I’m doing, like, half the time. But he makes me happy, I guess? Like, stupidly happy. This isn’t me like, bragging, but I just wanted to let you know. Emotional vulnerability for emotional vulnerability.”

“JISUNG PARK,” Jaemin exclaims with joy, own general relationship issues being shoved to the back of his mind in favour of his adoptive son finding happiness in the second-best sweetheart Jaemin knows (after Jisung, of course.)

Jisung is so wonderful, and Chenle is so wonderful, and to be fair it’s not particularly come as a surprise.  They had stuck together like Brand-name Super Glue since Fresher’s Week, getting almost frighteningly close in a matter of hours. After seeing Jisung’s timid and awkward behaviour around the campus, seeing him full-body shake at one of Chenle’s jokes was always brilliant. He shuffles further towards him, arm sliding to connect in the crook of Jisung’s and tightening to pull him close. “I’m so happy for you I could literally die, maybe.”

“You could be happy too, you know. If you talked to Donghyuck, right?”

Jaemin lets out a sigh at that. Jisung’s right. He knew it, Jisung knew it, even Renjun knew for God’s sake. But how he’d even begin going about that…

“I’ll think about it, yeah?”

Jisung sighs again, tightening his arm link with the older boy.

“Just consider coming, yeah? To the dance thing.”

Jaemin smiles at that, as Jisung begrudgingly turns the shitty movie back on. “Of course, I’ll come help kiddo. I said I would, didn’t I?”

 

*

 

It was a mistake, in the grand scheme of things.

Their plan, as relayed in the group chat that had been sparse with messages for weeks now, was to meet up at around 11ish the following week that took them nearing the end of March. Jaemin wakes up late, to the banging of Renjun on his room door.

“Jaemin Na if you don’t get up, I’ll — you know what? Screw it.”

Jaemin hears all of this in a sleepy haze, fully waking up only when someone grabs forcibly on his shoulders and _shakes_.

“I will quite literally throw up on you,” Jaemin grumbles, startled at the sudden throttling motion. “I will throw up on you and you will be absolutely _gutted.”_

“You’ll ruin your bed covers, and then where will you be?” Renjun replies, in a sober tone. Jaemin finally cracks open an eye, glaring up at his attacker—who’s wearing the most relaxed grin on his face, of course. This makes him the most cordial he’s seen him in the last few weeks.

“Why are you so cheerful?” Jaemin groans, pushing himself up despite his joints crying out in pain at the sudden movement. “It’s bewildering, Renjun. I’m bewildered.”

“Because,” Renjun trills back, ruffling Jaemin’s hair that, well. Leans more towards a noogie, actually. “Today is the first day all four of us will be together in ages. I get to be witness to the fact you and Donghyuck are the most painfully awkward duo the world has ever seen, _and_ I get to see Yukhei carry a lot of heavy objects. What more can fate offer me than this?”

“We’ll circle back to the Yukhei thing because there’s more to unpack here than that,” Jaemin says, holding a finger up, before yawning. “Me and Donghyuck? Awkward? Impossible. No idea what you’re talking about there, bud.”

Renjun lets out a grunt, flicking the younger boy on the forehead. “Do I have to put our friendship in a metaphorical timeout for another week?”

“No, please, I missed you and I’m sorry I’m too emotionally challenged to be up to your standards of maturity right now,” Jaemin whines like a toddler, but he’s mostly serious. His friendship group are essentially all his best friends but Renjun is practically his soulmate. Not speaking to him properly the past few weeks had been torture. “I had a talk with Jisung, you know? I’m working on it.”

“Oh? Any declarations of love on the books?”

“Love? No, but,” Jaemin starts, fingers tapping on his shoulder from where he’s paused mid-stretch. It’s a nervous tic, “something... has changed, I guess. In how I see Hyuck, I mean. I just don’t exactly know what yet, you know?”

Renjun looks thoughtful, running his tongue briefly along the soft of his inner cheek. He’s quiet for a while, seeming to chew on the words before he says them.

“That’s fair,” he nods, almost to himself, “and I’m sorry. It’s not fair of me to expect you to have your newfound feelings immediately in check. Not fair to Donghyuck, but it’s not fair to villainise you either, I guess. Not my situation.”

Jaemin feels guilty over the mar of emotion crossing over Renjun’s face after he closes his mouth because the fact of the matter is, he did that. He opens his own and Renjun, in typical Renjun fashion, picks up one of the small plushies next to Jaemin’s pillow and shoves it in his face to stop him from speaking first. “Not done yet. I just didn’t want Hyuck to get hurt, but I wasn’t thinking about you, either. You’re my best friend, too. Sorry for not saying that sooner.”

Jaemin stops spluttering, feeling so incredibly touched at his friend’s words. No, his _best_ friend’s displays of affection. Unsure how to convey the overwhelming feeling of affection for his flatmate in words, he just does what he does best and crushes Renjun to his chest, pulling him down with him on the bed in the process and squeezing the life out of him in the form of a simple hug.

“JAEMIN NA, I AM A FRAIL MAN WITH BRITTLE BONES.”

 

(Jaemin doesn’t let go for a long minute or two, but he lessens just a smidgen.

“Okay,” he says, muffled into Renjun’s shirt. “So. Yukhei.”

“I was being facetious!”)

 

After the mutual apology and the embrace of everlasting affection, Jaemin gets off his ass and gets ready to finally go help out for dance show prep. To be fair, it takes a couple more shouts from Renjun in the kitchen to fully kick him into gear, and whilst it makes him laugh, it doesn’t really do anything to stomach the anxiety suddenly pooling around in his stomach.

Refusing to think that deeply about it, he instead returns to his wardrobe. He’ll be fiddling with finicky accessories, lifting a lot of dumb objects, painting details on the bare bones of sets, so whilst maybe a small part of him wants to dress up nice for... you know, no _real_ reason of course, he would stand out a damn lot more if he did. He doesn’t want to rock up in just a normal hoodie and sweats though, that much is sure, so instead he picks out a simple slogan t-shirt and a wool-lined denim jacket, hurrying up out of his room when Renjun calls out that he’ll _leave him in an instant, Jaemin, I swear to God._

They head out shortly after that, heads bent together as they walk out of the apartment complex.

It feels nice to hang out with Renjun and not have to deal with any tension looming over them like low hanging fruit. Renjun looks a lot happier, too. He doesn’t want to admit it, which is fair — getting Renjun and Jaemin to be emotionally available is like pulling out hairs, but Jaemin’s fondness for his friends is overflowing like a broken tap, and Renjun is forever fiercely loyal. They suit, Jaemin likes to think.

When they turn the corner that leads up to their closest convenience store, Jaemin’s face splits into a smile as he spies a couple of familiar faces. Jeno and Chenle are standing together, with the oldest seemingly trying to teach the first year some footwork for a choreography Jaemin assumes he’s been practicing. Chenle isn’t nailing it, but he’s doing his best, and Jaemin is promptly ready to die for him.

Jaemin opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, and then calls out a jubilant _yoo-hoo!_ from where he is down the road, waving obnoxiously at his friends. Jeno casts a look between Renjun and Jaemin, at how Jaemin has taken Renjun’s arm hostage by linking it in his own, and his smile is like a goddamn solar beam.

Chenle echoes it back, happily ignoring the glares from the convenience store security guard who’s lingering by the doorway for a smoke. When they cross the distance to meet them, Jeno steps forth and, with an arm encircling the two of them, tugs them into a very tight hug.

“I’m so happy you guys,” Jeno starts in naiveté, rattling them slightly not too unlike a little kid with their favourite doll. Whilst Renjun grumbles again about his brittle bones and tries in vain to pinch at Jeno’s side to halt him somehow. Jeno carries on like none of its happening. “We’re back, baby!”

“Not too loud,” Jaemin whines, “I’ve got sensitive hearing.”

Chenle beams at that, wiggling into the hug and digging his chin painfully into Jaemin’s clavicle.

“You’re a bunch of old men and I love you.”

The moment Jeno lets them go, Renjun finally succeeds in pinching at his flank before linking arms with the youngest boy among them and heading off to lead the pack. If Jeno’s smile, unfaltering despite the attack, is a solar beam then Chenle’s is not too unlike kilowatt electric.

The walk to the performance hall is long, filled with Chenle’s unending chatter about the upcoming dance events and how well Jisung is at learning the choreographies. The showcase isn’t being held where any of the dance-soc events are usually based but rather the building that’s used almost exclusively for society events or other outside-of-uni excursions.

Honestly speaking, it’s a big deal that it was being held there for this time around, because this is the first time a dance team and society event has ever been held in higher regard than something sports-related. Jaemin felt an overwhelming surge of pride as they crossed the road and up the path towards the building, at just how far the dance society had come the past two years. His friends had all worked so hard, it was honestly quite impressive.

Renjun goes to open the doors when they reach them, and then tries to cover how quick he startles at Hyunjin as she whirs through the doors and parting them like Moses and the red sea with a big box of what looks like metallic streamers; yelling a harried _sorry, you guys!!!!!_ as she disappears into the building.

When he turns back and finds Jeno cheesing at him in the most annoying fashion, he promptly tells him to shut his damn mouth.

Following the oldest into the building, they’re momentarily impressed by the scale of it all. The university is pretty focused on making good impressions, and the interior of the place definitely gives that effect. Tall ceiling, warm coloured walls and oak fixtures that gave the imposing feeling of regality. They bypass the feeling of being intimidated by the whole thing, and instead wing left to the double doors left ajar; stepping into what they expect is complete and utter anarchy.

To say this is one of the most stressful times of the year is an understatement.

Last year can’t even compare to this, though. Sure, Jaemin missed the actual show due to competitions and team prep, but the one thing he could do was show out a couple of days a week to help arrange the set and go through stage directions. The dance themes they tackled were a lot more avantgarde that year, Jaemin remembers. The amount of stuff he had to do was nothing in comparison to what everyone else had to do. (Mark’s serves during that period of time were remembered fondly: filled up with pent up aggression, easily giving Jaemin a bruise or two.)

But this… this was something else.

A boy whirls past him, Jeno quickly registering him as Mark, patented pained grimace™ on his face as he lugs a box over his shoulder and out of the room; most likely following after Hyunjin. Jaemin looks back, first thing he’s able to note being that between the first sector of seats and the second, was a hoard of decorations being painstakingly strung together to hang up on the ceiling by a few volunteers. Yukhei was in charge of that, bless his heart, long legs drawn up to his chest as he sits on the floor; taking it incredibly seriously to the point of threading through three paper pieces to make a chain at a time.

Between the dozens of people, both volunteers and dance society members, flitting back and forth with costumes and designs and spreadsheets of steps for last minute-added choreographies, Jaemin can spot that at his side is Sooyoung: Yerim’s favourite older year who looks completely committed but she’s not as into it. No, she’s more into staring mournfully onto the stage where the rest of the dance team are. Jaemin follows her gaze to find them all spaced out evenly between each other, standing solemnly.

Sicheng, the chair of the society and current captain of the 2018-19 period, is standing in front of them with his hands on his hips, stretching out on the balls of his feet in front of them. There’s only a handful on the team, but Donghyuck is amongst the rest of the bodies with his feet in line with his shoulders.

“If we manage to keep this formation for the — Yeonju, Sujeong, you need to stay half a shoulder width apart. You know this,” Sicheng says, head swivelling to hyper focus on the two girls pressed closer than necessary and giggling behind respective hands. Jaemin catches the slight flush of embarrassment on Sujeong’s cheeks, as Sicheng claps again. “We don’t have the time to run through the set until this evening’s rehearsal, but if everyone can remember this it’ll make the whole process go way quicker, alright?”

The shouts of affirmation back to Sicheng are not too unlike chants from an army base reporting to their squadron leader, or maybe a cult.

They’re dismissed, and Jaemin immediately makes to walk the stretch of the room to meet Donghyuck at the stage stairs, but Renjun catches him on the back of his collar. Jeno claps him on the back, commending him for trying, before he walks over to meet Yukhei. Chenle promptly disappears somewhere throughout the cloud of the crowd after making a noise of surprise, leaving the two of them on their own.

“Not yet, buttercup,” Renjun says, dragging him back towards where Yukhei and Sooyoung are crowding the decorations box. Jaemin’s squawk is drowned out by the buzz of conversation throughout the echoing room, watching as Donghyuck’s face gets further and further away, mottled as he passes through a stage spotlight as he disappears into the crowd. “If you go now, you’ll distract him with ideals of fancy, and we can’t have that.”

“I thought an open line of communication is what you wanted from me,” Jaemin groans in defeat, coughing a little when Renjun pulls his collar a little tighter before manoeuvring out of his grip.

“The only thing Donghyuck has been complaining about more than your whole… thing is, the fact he seems to be running out of time to plan each and every design coordination for the showcase. You think he wants to deal with your love drama right now?”

Renjun doesn’t realise his mistake. Jaemin does though, and the warmth unfurling in his chest is next to none as he decides to focus on explicitly one part of that sentence.

“So... he talks about me?”

Renjun’s glower kills the dopey smile on Jaemin’s face dead.

“Easy now.”

Yeah, he probably deserved that.

Yukhei looks stressed as he stares down blankly at the pile of design-stringed goods, but a smile spreads across his mouth like butter the moment they approach him. “Oh good, you’re here! Someone please tag us out immediately or I’ll die.”

Sooyoung looks up with an expression full of unbridled hope, already putting down her reel of string.

“Gotcha, go be free,” Jeno says, holding a hand up that Yukhei slaps with vigour as he passes, with Renjun pulling up Sooyoung by gripping her forearm and taking her spot promptly. His expression falls minutely the moment he realises the to-do pile and the done pile are drastically different in size.

“Well what should I do, then?” Jaemin pouts from where he’s standing, looking down at his two friends now drowning in paper crafts and secretly feeling glad this wasn’t his job. Alas, it was in the cards. That, or destiny was on his side after all. “Feeling extremely left out, here.”

“Why don’t you go and pester Sicheng for a job? I’m sure he’ll be suitably annoyed and impressed at you harassing him during such a crucial time.”

Jeno’s words are light but Jaemin sucks in a deep breath at the thought of that. Practically a death sentence. Sicheng is the sweetest, the most lovely of boys who sat in on Kun’s revision sessions those fateful Sundays, offering snacks and helpful insights every so often, but Sicheng during this event period is an utter demon. He pivots before letting out the breath in a sort of failed calming mechanism, deciding to survey the area for options that are even remotely better than Jeno’s.

It isn’t long until (Hark! The herald angels sing!) he spots Jisung standing off to the side staring up at something a little obscured by a low-hanging beam and makes a beeline for him. The tall boy seems to immediately sense that danger is imminent, and swivels around to face Jaemin as soon as he opens his arms wide for a hug.

“My dearest, most angelic boy who can do no wrong! Oh, how I have missed you,” Jaemin croons, hooking his chin over Jisung’s shoulder.

Jisung croaks out through the older year’s death grip. “You saw me yesterday. Please. Enough of these games.”

“Never,” Jaemin smiles back through the other boy’s fur-lined hood, before relinquishing his grip. Pulling back, he glances down and recognises one of the outfits Jisung had sent him a picture of on Snapchat a week ago. _Last minute fittings G_G_ had been the caption, because it wasn’t Jisung if he wasn’t growing even a smidgen every other week.

The outfit is a high-necked, white dress shirt with added fabric to make a stitched-in cravat. Jisung hates it, has complained about it countless times, and is currently covering it up with his longest long-padding jacket.

“Cute,” Jaemin muses. “Very pirate-esque.”

“Stop it,” Jisung mumbles in a way that’s really more of a whine, scratching at a spot on his cheek. “Chenle said the same thing and now he won’t stop saying _arrr_ every time that we speak.”

Speaking of the other kid, Jaemin looks up to see Chenle is only a little-ways off, standing next to Mark who had somehow, some _when_ slid back into the room. They both had their arms crossed, heads bent towards each other as they look up at — oh. Of course.

Was Jaemin just lazy, or possibly legally blind? How did everyone managed to whirl around him so quick without him noticiing? Because he sure as hell didn’t expect to see Donghyuck up a rickety ladder, fabric of a banner in hand and two drawing pins ready to tentatively secure the **WELCOME TO THE DANCE SOCIETY’S END OF SPRING SHOWCASE!** banner to the wall.

It was funny, considering there was still a half a month to go. But if they didn’t decorate it now, they’d simply have no time. The amount of choreographies, stage directions, there was so much to follow it kind of made anything else incorporated late a bit difficult.

He glances over back at Mark, the surprise his actions garner drawing him away from Donghyuck as he raises something that becomes visible just over his shoulder: a conspicuously large protractor aimed up towards Donghyuck to — he assumes, of course — see if the side of the banner material Donghyuck is grasping matches the other side. He must’ve borrowed it from Johnny, the maths TA that Mark in particular is close with. It’s the only rational conclusion Jaemin can come up with right about now as to why he has an instrument not used outside of secondary school classrooms.

Donghyuck hasn’t noticed Jaemin yet, too busy looking down with a perma-frozen expression of irritation at Mark’s attention to detail.

“Usually this would be you on the receiving end of this and, honestly, I’m not happy about the role reversal,” Donghyuck calls down, pushing his baggy shirt sleeve up and scratching at a spot on his bicep. Jaemin smiles absently at that, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he surveys the other boy in a way he hopes isn’t totally creepy. It’s been a while since he’s seen him properly, he thinks quietly to himself. Outside of running in and out of the lecture halls they share.

Mark scowls at Donghyuck’s words in the middle of Jaemin’s musings.

“I just want it to be accurate, okay?” he says, put out. He makes a show of pretending to chuck the protractor at him, and Donghyuck jokingly cowers back. He minutely wobbles on the dodgy looking ladder whilst he does if, and Jaemin suddenly finds his fingers twitching with a want to move.

 

**WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?)**

  1. Go and brace that wobbly ladder. You shall be the last defence. (+ATK)
  2. Just continue to watch from afar with Jisung. Whatever shall be, will be. (+SELF PRESERVATION)



 

He hears both Chenle and Mark make a collective noise of surprise when he slides past them smoothly, moving to brace his hands on either leg of the steel ladder to keep it steady once he approaches. It’s quite a tall thing, and whilst he’s not so high up that a fall would desperately hurt him, it’s not a mere step or two he’s taken.

The touch of the ladder is cold, and he winces at the feel, before looking up and finally meeting Donghyuck’s wide eyes.

He probably wasn’t expecting him to show. Good thing the only thing Jaemin continues to do in his life is disappoint people!

“Hey there,” Jaemin starts soft, low, peering up at him. It’s quiet, under the buzz of commotion around them, but loud enough for the two of them to hear.  “You need to be careful, Hyuck. One wrong move and you’ll ruin that pretty face of yours.”

Donghyuck’s expression slips further to one of surprise, and that’s when it all goes to shit.

Despite the blatant flirting, it was a warning, one that Donghyuck clearly doesn’t heed due to the roaring of blood he’s hearing, if those red ears of his were anything to go by. He goes to stand just a little straighter, right himself better, but instead slips and falls back onto nothing.

His shout is loud, teeming with embarrassment, and spurs a panicked Jaemin into holding his arms out in order to catch him. Now, God knows why, because even though Jaemin’s got quite decent arm to core strength, there’s no way he can simply impede Donghyuck from falling to his doom with merely his arms.

On top of that, with his leg injury, he’s at an immediate disadvantage. Maybe it was the throes of burgeoning young love… the call of romance in the air… or, his bud was about to stack it in front of everyone and the shame he would face alone would be deadly. Just bros helping bros, of course.

Jaemin attempts to catch him, in the most cliché way of all — bridal. And it ends in success, kinda. An arm braces around the other boy’s shoulder, the other slipping under the crook of his knees, but he almost immediately collapses at the sudden change in weight and crumbles instantly to the ground.

They land in a heap on the hard floor together, a collection of limbs and what feels like a punch to the gut for more reasons than one.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,”_ Donghyuck says eloquently, groaning somewhere in the vicinity of his left ear.

“Ow,” Jaemin agrees back, astute. There’s a dull ringing in his ears. The weight on top of him shifts up, knee rolling over Jaemin’s hand and he yelps like a stricken dog. Donghyuck winces, hissing out a sorry immediately and pulling back so he’s half leaning against Jaemin’s torso with his other hand bracketing them in.

“Destiny is trying to kill me,” Donghyuck mutters vehemently, free hand that isn’t propping him up going to pinch at his nose. There’s a flush to his cheeks that is prominent even in the poor lighting. “I’m being targeted by fate. What the fuck?”

“What?” Jaemin asks, rubbing the back of his head as he finally attempts to sit up. The movement is fast, resulting in the wobbly feeling of the beginning of a headache, and blinks dumbly when he realises Donghyuck’s face is a lot closer than expected. He can see how he’s been worrying at his bottom lip recently.

The other boy’s droopy eyes are owl wide, his neck coiled back as he recalibrated a little away from Jaemin like a magnet. His eyes immediately shoot back and forth to somewhere on Jaemin’s face that most definitely aren’t his eyes, and if he wasn’t in the process of rolling a stiff shoulder out, he’d be flattered. (Okay, so he’s a little flattered regardless. Sue him.)

“Nothing,” Donghyuck responds in a small voice, a little too lost. His eyes dart back to Jaemin’s lips before fully leaning back on his haunches. “Fuck, Jaemin, are you okay?”

“Nothing a paracetamol can’t fix, I guess,” he replies back, shaking his head a little as if to clear whatever haze had hung over him now. “You good?”

“Fine,” he squeaks back. He frets for a moment, before he gets up with a bright red face, brushing off his friends’ immediate concern once he isn’t wrapped up in Jaemin anymore, and promptly leaves the latter boy sat on the floor on his own. Jaemin doesn’t move until Mark, Chenle and Jisung dive in swiftly to help him up.

“Dude, did you just get crushed?” Chenle asks, unhelpfully.

Okay, or just to drag him. The young boy is hunched over, hands on his knees as he peers down at Jaemin. Jisung is right there next to Jaemin on the floor, fretting all over him and squeaking unintelligible noises whilst the boy in question stares after where Donghyuck had whirled himself away in a fit of embarrassment.  

“Seems like it, Lele,” Jaemin croaks back, groaning as Mark grips his elbow and pulls him up to his feet.

“Nothing’s broken, right?” Jisung says then, an edge of panic in his voice that Jaemin absently smiles at. He reaches up, pinching lightly at the other boy’s face who winces but stays still for once.

“Just my pride. Hey, did you see where Donghyuck went to?” Jaemin says distractedly, spurring the conversation on as his eyes from his friend’s faces to the door far across the room. Mark grimaces at that, Jaemin only just missing the uncomfortable look passing over his face like a shift in murky waters.

“Are you... Well,” Mark starts, almost like he’s unsure how to go about this without setting something off, “you know. Are you sure about this? Maybe you guys should take some more time out. Also, you kinda just like, fell on each other? Are we just ignoring that?”

Jaemin frowns at that. Mark’s obviously speaking from his standpoint as Donghyuck’s long-running #1 bestest of best friends, and maybe he’s right, but he doesn’t know how to feel about it exactly. The older boy treats him well enough, even so. They were friends first before they were teammates, but he seems to look at him these days with a sense of knowing that Jaemin feels left out about, explicitly whenever Donghyuck is involved.

“Yeah, like,” Jisung offers then, cautiously, distracting him, “this is good and all, being proactive and I’m sure wherever Renjun and Jeno are they felt a surge of phantom pride, but you might have a concussion? You didn’t hit your head too hard, did you?”

Jaemin squints at that, raising his eyebrows and turning his head to face Jisung. “It’s whatever. I can count. Give me a couple of guess the fingers I’m holding up games, I’ll prove you right.”

Jaemin does as such. Chenle tries to fake him out, but he gets a solid 2/3 correct and was therefore legally allowed to continue on by Chenle’s standards. He breaks away from his friends before he can hear their murmurs of dissent, and slips through the crowd, trying to make sure he doesn’t knock into anyone moving back and forth throughout the room and slipping through the door into the much cooler lobby. His feet carry him throughout the empty hall, and outside of the room.

The cool brisk air of the afternoon hits him instantly, and he shivers as it picks at his skin. He braves on, eyes sliding around the dull scenery before he lays his eyes on tousled brown hair and the blaring of a song Jaemin recognises it as one Donghyuck doesn’t stop playing whenever they hang out in his room.

Pretentious as he is, he brought a record player back to his flat after Christmas after hinting desperately to all of his friends that what he desperately wanted Father Christmas to bring to his flat door were records. Jaemin had brought him a Miles Davis compilation piece that had quickly become one of Donghyuck’s favourites.

His music was eclectic, a mix of jazz, rock, pop, more. One of his public Spotify playlists had a lot of the digital versions of the records he has lined up on his shelf, one of which Jaemin is actually subscribed to. So, he recognises the song now quietly playing through the phone that’s resting by his thigh on the steps he’s sitting on, back hunched in telltale poor posture, and a thumbnail worrying at the inside of his hand.

“Fancy see you here,” Jaemin calls, not wanting to surprise him again and making him tumble down the brick steps. Donghyuck full-body jerks, recoiling naturally like a cat whose fur has been stroked the wrong way, and doesn’t turn around — not even when Jaemin comes to a halt behind him. Instead, he drags a hand down his face and keeps it there.

“Can I take a rain-check on this conversation, possibly in forty years?” He mumbles after a while, through the crack in his fingers, still not turning to look at him. “I’m too embarrassed, and the will to die is much more potent than whatever this’ll be.”

Jaemin laughs at that, heading down the steps to slide down and sit next to the shy boy beside him.

“You’re embarrassed? Why, because you fell for m—” Jaemin tries to finish but one of Donghyuck’s hands dart out, covering Jaemin’s mouth awkwardly. Somewhere inside of him, he feels a sharp sense of déjà vu.

“Stop joking around!” Donghyuck panics back, a whine drawing any hostility away from his words. He reels back, covering his eyes with his other forearm. “God, I’m so embarrassed. I’m going to die? I literally squashed you into the ground and RAN, JAEMIN. In front of the whole society, too. Christ, I’m finished.”

Jaemin reaches up, curling a hand around Donghyuck’s wrist and gently tugging away his hand. It’s mostly so he can breathe. Kinda just because he wants to.

“Eh, they’ll get over it. The stresses of preparing for the showcase outweigh one of their lead dancers taking part in a little casual GBH.”

“Shut up, shut up,” Donghyuck slaps at his arm with a free hand, obviously fighting back a smile. God, Jaemin missed this. “Are you alright? I know I asked already but I’m just... you know. Curious, if I gave you a concussion or whatever.”

“Apart from a ringing headache and shattered pride, yeah I’m pretty alright,” Jaemin jokes easily, grin widening as he sees Donghyuck blanch a little. He slides his hand off of Donghyuck’s small wrist. “If you apologise again, only _then_ will I be hurt. Relax, Hyuck.”

They fall silent then, allowing the music between them to fill any gaps the lack of conversation leave behind. Jaemin turns to look at Donghyuck side-on, who was leaning back on his arms on the step behind them, face angled up toward the grey-blue sky. He leans over then, jostling him with his own elbow. “So, can we talk?”

He makes a surprised shape with his mouth, before turning to look at Jaemin head on. The pale light looks nice on his skin, and Jaemin lets his gaze falter a little.

“Aren’t we already?” Donghyuck says, a coy tilt to his head. It’s all bravado — Jaemin knows this because he does it himself and the two of them are so painfully alike, and he can’t hold back a smile.

“Ooiiii,” Jaemin sneers, jostling him again. “I missed that inability to be serious at any given time.”

Donghyuck scoffs at that. “That’s real rich, coming from you.”

“I’m a changed man, you know. Had a masterclass in personal maturity and everything.”

“Don’t make me laugh, Jaem.”

“I’m serious,” Jaemin urges, smile starting to slip as he braced himself to carry on, “I’m serious, and I’m sorry.”

The breeze picks up the same time Donghyuck’s eyebrows furrow, picking back at Jaemin’s skin. The music lulls between them as the song changes over.

“You’re sorry? For... why do you have to be sorry?”

“I... The last time we went out. I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable enough to leave with Mark instead of the rest of us. I miss you, you know? It sucks. I had a mini argument with Renjun, too, which somehow sucks even _more_ , but it’s not a competition or anything. Just a good, unhealthy amount of suck,” he pulls his knees closer to him, resting his arms over the tops of them and promptly angling his face towards Donghyuck.

The boy’s face is soft, pensive despite Jaemin trying to keep the mood light. “I dunno. I miss you, you know? I know I can be a lot, so I can’t blame you for wanting a break, but we haven’t spoken properly in weeks.”

Donghyuck stares at him for a while, building Jaemin’s anxiety up and up like a jenga tower, before finally opening his mouth, a guilty twinkle in his eyes.

“Jaemin you didn’t... hah, how to explain this. It wasn’t you. Or, okay, it was kinda you, but pretty much like, all me. With the showcase coming up, I’ve been so busy and what happened — well, what happened the other night was,” Donghyuck looks away then, colour at his cheeks again, “I wasn’t exactly. Bothered by that. I was all in my head, I guess. I shouldn’t have gone all radio silent. And... I missed you too, for what it’s worth.”

Donghyuck looks back. Jaemin meets his gaze head on and drinks in his smile like liquid gold. “Probably says how much we’re all ridiculously co-dependant on each other but, whatever.”

Jaemin, for once, lets himself enjoy the warmth unfurling across his chest. He lilts a little, “Soooo... you don’t hate me?”

“You dumbass, I could never hate you," Donghyuck pushes him away with a hand to his shoulder, sincerity dripping in his voice. “I don’t think the ability to hate you is written into my DNA, dude. Seriously annoying. Take responsibility.”

“Then... could you please start taking our Snapchat streak seriously? I think I’ll seriously die if I get another black screen. Die!” Jaemin whines in his most annoying voice, grinning as a scowl blooms over Donghyuck’s face at the tone.

“I’ll do what I want, of course,” he replies primly. The younger between them laughs, gripping his collar and pulling it a little higher to block out the cold. When he looks up at him, he sees Donghyuck looking back at him — really looking, with a soft crinkle to the corner of his eyes and Jaemin thinks, _This could be it._

He turns where he sits, facing the other boy full on. Takes a deep breath. Braces himself on the step behind them, cold seeping into his palm. “Hey, Donghyuck—”

Donghyuck leans in ever so slightly, gaze imploring. “Yeah?”

“JAEMIN NA!”

Jaemin jolts away, gaze sharply cutting to behind the two of them as they startle. A couple of metres away, there stands Jeno, looking sheepish with his fingers curled into embarrassed, loose fists drawn up to just under his sternum. “Oops. Come with me to go buy some more ribbon, will you? The amount they want I can’t carry alone and Renjun verbally spat at me when I asked if he wanted to come.”

Jaemin lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Ah, whyyyyy,” he grumbles loudly, “I’m busyyyyy.”

“It’s for chair decorations, I think,” Jeno chews at the inside of his cheek, looking bashful. Jaemin makes a scrunched-up face, swatting away the metaphorical cloud of Jeno’s shame as he pushes himself up to his feet.

Donghyuck laughs at that, standing as Jaemin rises himself and brushing off the invisible dust on his knees. “I should go back and talk to Sicheng about floor plans and shit anyways.”

“Speak to you later, then?” Jaemin asks then, quietly, practically ready to drown in the way that Donghyuck’s smiling. He’ll do it, he swears to all that is holy. Donghyuck looks lighter than he has the few times Jaemin had caught him across the lecture hall, and it makes any anxieties poisoning his mood the past few weeks dissipate like a balloon popping.

He said it once and he’ll say it again: he missed this.

“Got’cha,” he says, all blithe, heading back to the building with a wave of his hand, not looking. Jeno tries to hip bump him as he passes, grinning at him smugly until Donghyuck tries to pinch at his side. The elder boy between the two scuttles away, yelping to hide behind a bemused Jaemin.

“Hope you’ve got your wallet on you, because my debit card is somewhere in Jisung’s pocket, I think,” Jaemin muses, watching Donghyuck walk back as Jeno joins him.

“Better than that, I’ve got Renjun’s! He told me to grab some snacks for our movie marathon tonight as well, so you _know_ I can finally buy like a six pack of Mini Cheddars and not feel bad about it.”

“Movie mar—shit, that’s tonight?” Jaemin exclaims in shock, coming to a halt and looking at Jeno with wide eyes. Despite the fact none of them were media majors, their whole social lives seemed to revolve around watching films, funny enough. Jisung had the whole tortured, up-and-coming hobbyist filmmaker thing going on, and Jaemin liked to indulge him, especially when poorly made slasher flicks were involved, so there was that he supposed.

“Well, yeah. It’s third Sunday, dude. Did you forget?” Jeno teases as he looks back at him quizzically.

That was bad timing on Jaemin’s part, to be fair. It was literally monthly, so he can’t be too surprised. The real reason he was so shocked was this was a Renjun-Jeno-Jaemin-Donghyuck event only. Donghyuck was going to be hanging out with him today even if he hadn’t have apologised. The fact he’d completely forgotten about this, about having to be in an enclosed space with Donghyuck, and somehow ignored any telltale hints this was coming up over the last few weeks was… astounding.

He looks back to Donghyuck, who slips through the door and back into the chaos, failing to call out in time.

“Yeah,” Jaemin mumbles. “Well, whatever. Me and Hyuck are friends again now so it’s no big deal.”

“Just friends?”

Jeno’s inquisitive tone isn’t pressing, but Jaemin winces regardless. He slings an arm around the line of Jeno’s shoulders, drawing him closer as they head back down towards the shopping centre.

“I’m working on it.”

 

*

 

Around a half an hour before the fated night was actually about to begin, Jaemin finds himself comparing 2-for-£5 mini cocktail sausage packs against a wheel of dip sauces on clearance. Jeno had complained last minute about all the stuff they couldn’t get for tonight, cooking up such a huge fuss to the point where Jaemin was pushed out of picking an outfit that was casual, but also boyfriend-worthy enough to woo Donghyuck where he stood. Or, you know. Something along those lines. He’d simply settled for dark sweats and a comfy hoodie, wandering around in socks and sliders like any relatable young teen.

“ _For such a high scale movie marathon night, we need more snacks. I’ve been thinking about it for like, two hours-worth of practice now_ ,” Jeno had whined through voice message, the quality a little choppy. “ _Coming back from it now with Hyuck, and Renjun is still MIA… Nana… my knight in shining Fila Disruptors… it can only be you.”_

Jaemin had let out a huge huff, muttering a reel of weak curses about how _Jeno isn’t so organised after-all, huh?_ And _ah, how can he be making me do this so late?_ before promptly standing up and heading to the convenience store regardless.

He glances up and down the aisle that he was in for snack inspiration, but ultimately comes up empty. Instead, he juggles his basket to the other hand and pulls open the group chat on his phone.

 

**from: jaemin**

**to: millennium boys**

what do you guys want again???

mini cheddars are sold out btw jen (੭˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅)੭⁾

 

**from: jen**

**to: millennium boys**

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO????

this is the worst news of all time

all my goals in life are ruined

 

 **from: hyuck ♥** ♥

**to millennium boys**

dude u should have said!!!!!!!! i would’ve bought them @ wilkos but

wilkos is now shut. u loser

 

**from: jen**

**to: millennium boys**

this is a cautionary tale……

btw injun wants some monster munch. pickled onion please

he told me earlier and if he doesn’t get it he’ll kick my ass through association

oh my god hold please……

 

 **from: hyuck ♥** ♥

**to: millennium boys**

if i could scoff over text rn……… oh boy

it would be SOUL-CRUSHING..

btw get me some chocolate plz nana ♥

 

**from: jaemin**

**to: millennium boys**

ur wish is my commend ♥ ♥

commane*

fucking HELL command*****

 

**from: hyuck ♥ **♥****

**to millennium boys**

good going, ol buddy ol pal!

 

Jaemin turns and spins on his heel, heading back up the aisle to where the chocolate aisle resided near the front of the store. He’s wrongly surprised, however, when the shelves of said aisle are almost completely barren. No Twirls. No Curly Wurlys. And certainly, which was the most depressing aspect of course, no Kit-Kat chunkys. It was absolutely criminal.

A part-time worker catches him staring gobsmacked at the practically vacant shelves and leant into his eyeline behind the box she’s carrying.

“Ah, the reason for that is we’re trying to push the last Valentine’s Day stock, which meant we really didn’t have enough regular chocolate on sale today.”

She looks apologetic, and he sends her a smile to convey that it’s ok, but when she wanders off with her crate of £1 Dorito’s crisp packets and he finally turns back to fully absorb the situation, the heart-shaped packaging of the chocolates literally makes him want to die.

He wonders, genuinely wonders, why was this happening. He and Donghyuck were back on track. Sure, he had some confusing feelings welling around him like some sort of emotional whirlpool, but it’s not like he came out here explicitly to throw fuel on the fire.

Not too unlike a That’s So Raven flashback, it all seems to link up with the other weird stuff happening to the both of them in the last month or so. Dramatic moments that belonged in a television show, like the aggressive puddle splash, the moment of clarity at Pulse, even yesterday when Jaemin had almost been squashed by the other. They were all linked. And why wouldn’t they be? Especially after his and Donghyuck’s calm-shattering tarot read. He lets himself think about that absolute disaster, and can only dwell on one thing in particular:

_With the Lovers, not only does it encourage a romantic relationship, but moreover can focus on the flourishing of an already strong bond. Do not get me wrong however: it’s almost always to do with the nature of love._

He’s overwhelmed with the sudden need to slam his face into any nearby surface.

“Curse you, destiny,” he mumbles melodramatically. He appreciates the shelves, the ridiculous bright pink packaging, in the shape of hearts or carefully mastered chocolate biscuit trays in the shape of rings. “Why are you doing this to me. Good lord.”

He settles on one of the least obnoxious ones, a variety select box that was Thornton’s, but a way, way reduced price. His ears prick up at that, peering at the back. Orange caramel, white truffle, simple milk and—go figure! Strawberry cream. _Hyuck’s favourite._ He can’t find it within himself to freak out even more about the situation and dumps it in the basket; meandering over to the till that’s being manned by the staff worker before.

“Here to help you clear the stock, I guess,” he offers, awkwardly. She doesn’t seem that interested, but she offers an amiable smile regardless as she rings him up.

When he steps out of the store finally with his snacks in tow, his phone vibrates and unconsciously he finds himself smiling as he opens the group chat. He vaguely notices Jeno hasn’t come back yet from whatever he got interrupted with, but Donghyuck’s text captures his attention more.

 

**from: hyuck ♥♥**

**to: millennium boys**

gonna take a shower before u guys arrive!!! doors on the latch but jen should be in

see u heathens soon ♥♥♥♥

 

*

 

“Donghyuck, Jeno,” Jaemin calls, when he walks across the hall and slides into Jeno and Donghyuck’s flat. He pauses when he passes threshold, sliding off his shoes and leaving them in the hallway. “Maybe Renjun, too? I’m here!”

There’s no response, but the thin walls and the shitty student accommodation piping indicate he’s still in the shower. He shifts the shopping bag from one hand to the other to let the blood flow again, before pulling the door open to the lounge area. The snacks he bought with Jeno the night before are laid out on the table, along with a couple of blankets piled haphazardly on the stools.

Donghyuck’s laptop, Jaemin recognizes from the pretentious stickers coupled with some telltale scratches on the corner, is hooked up to the TV already. There’s a significant lack of Jeno and Renjun in the flat, unless they were chatting in Jeno’s room, but even Jaemin couldn’t find it within himself to be needy enough to storm in there.

He waits a while, leaning over his knee to scratch at a spot on his ankle absently, until his phone vibrates against his couch as it digs into his thigh.

 

**from: jen**

**to: jaemin**

surprise!!!!!!!!! we went back 2 the dance hall lol

hope ur setting the mood to enjoy this wonderful date opportunity!!!!!!

 

_God. Of course, this was a scheme cooked up by the two of them. Why would they ever let him live for even a moment?_

“UGHHHHHH,” Jaemin groans, locking his phone out of spite and dropping it on his thigh. He slides further down on the couch, seething until the jarring noise of the kitchen door opening makes him startle.

Donghyuck walks in then, surprising him, with the towel around his neck that’s being pawed around his wet hair. There’s a smudge of white face cream on the slope of his nose, Jaemin notices as he wanders around the island table and over to where Jaemin is.

“You’re here,” Donghyuck says with a slow-spreading smile. Jaemin gulps. “Where’s Renjun and Jeno?”

Jaemin’s knows, just _knows_ that he’s staring whilst the other boy talks and hopes to any God that is listening up above that it’s not too obvious.

“Uh,” Jaemin starts, plainly, with a red face, “so, Jen and Jun bailed.”

“What?” Donghyuck exclaims, twisting his expression up in mild affront.

“They… uh,” he falters, unsure how to go on. How are you supposed to say the reason why your best friends both dipped on your pre-scheduled, monthly hang sesh was because they were trying to get you and your other best friend-turned-crush (?!) together? Jaemin was well and truly stumped.

Donghyuck tilts his head, prompting Jaemin to stop waxing poetic about him and carry on. Stray droplets of water trail down from the soft curve of his jaw to sink into his light blue jumper, making a smattering of darker smudges from his shoulder to his front.

“They’re stuck at the dance hall. Sicheng called Jeno back to learn how to be an understudy and Renjun is just trying to help out with any last-minute prep,” Jaemin spills out. It’s a white lie, but it’s still a lie, leaving a rotten taste in his mouth. Self-preservation, a part of him stressed so desperately in the back of his mind. “So, we could just… I don’t know. Postpone, or something. We don’t have to. Uh, you know…”

“Well,” Donghyuck says, balling up his hair towel and chucking it at Jaemin’s face. The latter yelps, regretting a whole plethora of things to lead him up to this moment, and Donghyuck laughs loud and clear when Jaemin rips it away. “Actually, firstly give me that back so I can put it in my washing basket, please.”

“Oh, no. This shit is mine now. Thanks for the gift, it’s uh,” Jaemin holds it like a trophy, with a grimace, shaking it slightly, “so unique.”

Donghyuck is still laughing when Jaemin pelts it back, it turning into some form of cackle the moment the material hits his arms. They peter off when he heads back out of the kitchen, leaving Jaemin just staring after the dark dots just below the back neckline just as he disappears behind the door.

 

**from: jaemin**

**to: jen**

i will kill u. enjoy ur final moments

hyuck and this overwhelming pressure i’m now feeling say hi btw ∩ᵒ̴̶̷̤⌔ᵒ̴̶̷̤∩

 

When he comes back, it’s with a dramatic push of the door and a genial expression.

“We don’t have to postpone though, if you want?” Donghyuck says with maybe a little hope dashed in his casual tone as he winds his way across back over, heading over to his laptop.

“No, duh, sounds good,” Jaemin says, sitting up a little straighter.

The TV is on the wall with the window in an awkward position behind it, which is both terrible architecture and also interior design plans put in action. The only plus is the window ledge that is just wide enough to cram Donghyuck’s laptop in for easy HDMI connection. He opens up the lid, typing in his password and then pulling up the folder of definitely _not_ the pirated movies he has hoarded like a treasure chest on there.

Pretty much all of their movie nights had been fun, fresh and legal, but that was before the Summer Netflix Purge™ of this very year. Now, the majority of the films they wanted to watch, they had to find Torrent links that _weren’t_ broken on dodgy Reddit threads. It was a nightmare.

“You fancy starting off with a musical or something?” Donghyuck asks, looking over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “Rent again, maybe?”

“ _God_ you know the way straight to my heart, darling,” Jaemin says with a little too much feeling. Donghyuck doesn’t react, and Jaemin thanks God both for his selective hearing and that he has his back to him right now. “Sing-along ver’?”

“Yeah, I think I got that on heeeere… yep,” he beams, double-clicking loudly. He pulls back, looking suspiciously towards the fridge across the room. “Ugh, I think I had some wine, but I also think we used it up for mixer the last time we went out.”

 _Wine mixer…_ Jaemin shivers visibly like he had been personally wronged. “That’s okay, I think the last time I was wine drunk I just ended up getting sick quicker. Diet Coke’ll do.”

Donghyuck heads back to the table, grabbing some of the blankets as well as the maximum number of crisp packets he can pinch in one hand, dragging them all over to the table. He drops the snacks with a resounding crunch, dumping the blankets on the space next to Jaemin, before grabbing the Coke bottle on the table as well as two glasses. He shuffles over to the light switches, turning both of them off and submerging them in a hazy light only from the white of his laptop screen displayed on the TV. Finally, he begins the movie, with a tap on the touchpad.

“God,” he heaves as the movie starts to begin, suddenly taking a breather from all of the stuff that he’s doing. He cups his side dramatically like a kid getting a stitch on Sport’s Day. “I’m just doing all of the work here, huh?”

Jaemin snorts at that, shuffling a little further back into the couch to get comfortable with the pillows behind him.

“Yeah, make your guest feel a little bit more welcome, why don’t you? This is your job as the newly-minted, sole host of this movie night.”

“You better give me a 5-star rating, then,” Donghyuck warns, pointing a finger at him threateningly. “I _will_ win this Come Dine with Me episode and there’s absolutely _nothing_ that you can do about that.”

He looks pretty, the single thing outlined in a sea of white as the film slowly starts up.

Jaemin leans forward then, grabbing one of the packets on the table closer to him and shaking it profusely. “Oh yeah, with your starter of cocktail sausages and your main of three grab-bags of Quavers. A total shoe-in.”

Donghyuck falls back onto the sofa after approaching, wiggling so he can pull the blankets out from under him, before promptly leaning over to flick his friend on the ear.

“Shut your mouth, that’s really funny and I hate it,” Donghyuck sings, before grabbing the remote beside him and turning up the sound. “By the way, the first song is about to begin.”

Rent, of c. 2005 reboot fame, remains solidly Jaemin’s favourite movie of all time. He grabs blindly at Donghyuck’s wrist, patting beside him until he finds it and holds tight.

“ _How do you document real life_ ,” he dramatically lip-syncs, pulling laughs out of Donghyuck like they’re on a reel of film, “ _when real life’s getting more like FICTION each daaaay_.”

“God, stop,” Donghyuck croons as Jaemin continues with  _headlines — bread lines blow my mind, and now this deadline: eviction or pay… Rent!_

It continues a lot like that for pretty much the rest of the movie.

Jaemin, not that he would tell anyone this, knows that despite the fact he loves this movie like it’s a metaphysical extension of himself, there’s one solid truth hanging over him like the guillotine: he’s only making a big deal of singing along and lip-syncing like a drag queen in a RuPaul finale to get over the way his heart is stuttering at Donghyuck smelling like coconut and shea butter beside him.

He’s somehow migrated to nestling in close, sipping his coke through a straw and cuddling into those blankets like a cocoon, with his head tilted towards Jaemin and only squinting slightly when the other boy jostles him out of pure excitement. The vibrant lights of Rent-Mark’s (and not best-friend-Mark) video camera shots of New York flicker and make a pretty picture projected onto Donghyuck’s face, and he only stutters once or twice in his rendition of every song ever.

It’s only when Donghyuck shuffles in even closer under the blankets, sliding a delicate hand around Jaemin’s bicep and resting his head on his shoulder, does he choke.

“You good?” The older between them mumbles from beside him. The vibration of the tone, despite Donghyuck’s general high, nasally tone, tickles at his shoulder and makes his cheeks burn.

“Just peachy,” Jaemin stammers, as Mimi whirls around Roger with a need for her candle to be lit. _Mood._

“Oh, that reminds me,” Donghyuck stirs-slash-segue ways, angling his head further so his lips brush against Jaemin’s neck briefly and make Jaemin twitch in surprise. He doesn’t mention it, though. What a champ. “They’re not making it for the rest of the movie, right?”

“Yeah, I think Renjun will probably stay round Jeno’s tonight but… don’t hold me to that. Maybe they’ll storm in here, later.”

“Hm, maybe,” he mumbles back. There’s a pause, a lull between them. “I’m kinda glad it’s just us right now, though.”

Jaemin rises his eyebrows at that, feeling the shift of Donghyuck’s fingers as he moves to get a better position. How can he even begin to react to that other than _??!!???!?!?_

“Is that too much?” He says, when Jaemin is a beat too slow. He sounds unsure, and Jaemin’s heart pangs. This is —  

“ _That was my last match_ ,” Roger says, wide-eyed as Mimi sidles up close to him, the sly smile on her face capturing every inch of his attention.

“ _Our eyes’ll adjust, thank God for the moon,”_ she sings, sidling up closer to him with the rays of the moon lighting the scene up.

“No such thing as that,” Jaemin mumbles back, turning to look down at him and willing every bit of his blood to stop rushing to his cheeks. When they meet each other’s gazes, Donghyuck’s smiles again, letting his head rest back on Jaemin’s shoulder and following as Mimi snuck back down the fire exit in the movie.

The slope of Donghyuck’s nose is so damn pretty, he notices quietly as the scenes change. He’s not paying attention to the movie as well anymore. _There’s not a movie that can top that nose tilt_ , he thinks. There’s also the curve of his lips, the doe-like downturn of his eyes, the way his hair has gone fluffy and curly after his shower; smelling it’s distinct smell of coconut.

Jaemin could drown himself in this, could well and truly rest like a celebrity on tour for months on end with no comeback in sight. Donghyuck was so — so much, and so wonderful. It was only then, when something clicked within Jaemin’s brain, something he hadn’t been quite ready to face just as of yet.

He loved him.

He loved Donghyuck Lee, his best friend, his day one. He could see himself moving into a cute bungalow with the guy in, like, Stoke-on-trent. Maybe even adopt a dog, or two. And that was fucking big.

It’s not a massive realization, maybe something slow and soft flowing around and constricting his heart like a stupid love python, love, because he was in love with Donghyuck, who he loved.

He thought back again to the fated tarot reading, to all those months ago, to when she had said: _Jaemin’s pick: Ace of Cups, it really encourages you to take that next leap. I suppose that’s up for you to decide._

The next step?

He gulps. Finally accepting his scary, new feelings for Donghyuck was one thing. How on Earth would he tell him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the_beginning_of_the_end.jpg


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The air seems to change then. There he is, staring at the boy he loves, where everyone around him can read his heart and knows how the fuck he feels. And that’s some kind of wonderful character development, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the end of an era folks........ specifically, i would like to thank my very good friend cherry for constantly hyping me up whilst i wrote this. i started it around the beginning of our friendship and they have been SO supportive that i'm very grateful ;;; and also to yas for screaming about it on twitter AND in the comments because it literally fuelled me to keep going skdfjfdfkj ALSO also, to every single person who left such lovely comments and kudos and even checked it out. also the old norenminhyuckists gc, the original nahyuck allies.. mwah!!!!!
> 
> this is the first time i've actually finished an ongoing fit and i'm so!!!! very pleased with myself. i went through laptop breaks and doing this when I wasn't stressed mid-year abroad, a lot of recollection of my own uni escapades and [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SB4Jra4zR80) over and over but.. i hope this wasn't a disappointing end. ♡ ♡ ♡

So, first things first. Loving Donghyuck was a whole uncharted territory. Before he decides anything himself, because that is a dangerous move in itself, he decides his first port of call is: talk to his friends. That’s both a safe way to move forward and a good way to procrastinate the whole situation. Wonderful! 

 

(INT.  2ND FLOOR LIBRARY, D-7 TO THE SHOWCASE.) 

“Hey, Jungwoo. We’re buds, right?” 

“As much as a puppy trailing after its human can be classified as friendship.” 

“Ouch,” Jaemin whistles lowly, putting his pen down and making a wounded face at the utter slaying. 

“Sorry,” Jungwoo grimaces, “I haven’t slept well recently.” 

It’s been a couple of days since the infamous Realization™, as Jaemin has taken to calling it. Those days have been spent wrapping himself up in his room and overthinking, well. Everything. On top of everything else, most importantly he ignored his assignments, which led him to spend tonight in the library to catch up with anything else unattended. Jungwoo was a nice bonus. 

“Of course we’re buds,” Jungwoo says in his normal soft voice then, not looking up but nudging him a little with an elbow. Jaemin makes a little happy noise, still a little subdued because they _are_ in the quiet area on a Saturday afternoon and speaking too much is practically blasphaemic to any wandering security guard or librarian, so he merely nods and tries to focus on his work.  

Keyword: tries. 

It’s after the third nervous look and then promptly failing to deliver on it, that Jungwoo sighs and closes his textbook.  

“Wanna go to the vending machine?”  

Jaemin grimaces, remembering he spent his only change on him on a box of chicken and chips. 

“On me, loser.” 

He leaps up, almost knocking down a chair and promptly follows an ever-exhausted Jungwoo down the corridor to the vending machine wing. There’s a girl in the corner who’s chugging a Sprite Zero, fluffy socks peeking out from under her leggings, but Jaemin tries not to pay her any mind. 

“What would you like?” Jungwoo murmurs, startling a musing Jaemin slightly. The older boy stifles a yawn, and Jaemin immediately feels kind of bad for wasting his precious time. 

“Um, just a peach Coke, please,” Jaemin mumbles shyly. They wait until the vending machine rumbles, dropping down into the collection point. Jungwoo gets a grab bag of Monster Munch before heading to the table at the end of their hallway and hopping on it. Jaemin sits next to him, the bag of crisps between them, and Jungwoo waits patiently through crisp-munching until Jaemin builds up the courage to speak. 

“So,” Jaemin says, trying to sound cool and casual, and fiddling with the lid of his body, “so, would I be able to ask you something?” 

“Depends, I suppose. As long as you’re not asking to sign my life away or anything,” Jungwoo chirps through the crunch of the crisps in his mouth. “Gotta at least finish my dissertation proposal, you know.” 

“No, more like… okay, have you ever been in love?” Jaemin asks, biting the bullet all of a sudden.  

Jungwoo is quiet for a moment, pursing his lips as he studied the younger boy in front of him with careful eyes. Jaemin fidgets under the stare, feeling the need to explain himself. 

“You don’t have to read into this or whatever,” Jaemin grumbles quickly, trying not to heat up. “This is a completely hypothetical situation. I’m just trying to get different opinions right now, you know? It’s interesting. It’s sociology.” 

“So, this is completely for your course work, huh?” Jungwoo says, a knowing smile spreading across his face. 

“One-hundred percent,” Jaemin lies through his teeth, tapping the counter they’re on. 

“Okaaaaay, acting like I believe that completely,” Jungwoo huffs out a laugh, pushing the crisps across the table towards Jaemin before crossing his legs one over the over. He links his hands over the knee, angling himself slightly towards the younger boy, before carrying on. “Love… personally, I’ve never seen the point. I mean… maybe not the point, rather, but it’s never personally interested me. I can get an influx of dopamine through, like, sex. Or watching old reruns of Misfits, I guess.” 

He’s completely blunt in the way he speaks, but he seems a lot more relaxed in explaining his feelings to his friend. Jaemin’s captured with interest, ultimately ignoring Jungwoo’s dismissal of his sociology smokescreen and choosing to munch down on a couple more crisps.  

“Shho, you—” Jaemin starts, through his mouthful. At Jungwoo’s grimace, he swallows and tries again. “So, you have no interest in dating at all?” 

“Personally, yeah. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try it, I guess? For the right person? I think love transcends a lot more than just being in a relationship with someone, personally. But to others, to you, maybe? It could mean falling deeper than an anchor off of a cliff. Or like, sharing your £4.50 meal deal with somebody. Semantics.” 

“Huh,” Jaemin mutters, ignoring Jungwoo’s joke as he muses a little deeper on his words. What he felt for Donghyuck was still a little confusing, but ultimately pretty traditional. Boy meets boy. Boy falls in love with boy. (!!!) Somewhere between that, it’s the build-up through the form of a rom-com between two friends. 

“But don’t take me seriously,” Jungwoo says plaintively, reaching further into the bag and bringing back out the last crisp in the packet. “Like I said, I don’t date. Also, haven’t slept in two days.” 

“Thanks, Jungwoo,” he says a little seriously, looking at him side-on. He looks a more than a little tired. His workload the past few weeks had been ridiculous, and he’d only had a few times to relax — one of which being the fateful night out that had kicked off the misunderstanding between Donghyuck and Jaemin. It wasn’t fair, because Jungwoo was frankly wonderful, and ultimately selfless underneath his exhausted and sarcastic exterior, and one of Jaemin’s nearest and dearest. “I appreciate it.” 

Jungwoo looks at him for a couple of seconds before his face softens into a smile. He reaches out, rubbing his hand over the short-cropped hairs at the back of Jaemin’s head.  

“For what it’s worth, I hope it works out.”  

 

* 

 

(INT. THE FLAT, D-7 TO THE SHOWCASE.) 

“RENJUUUUN, HURRYYYYY,” Jaemin whines like an utter child throughout their apartment, not even stopping when Renjun heads back into the living room, 3DS in one hand as he tries to struggle on a soft-looking jumper.  

The older between them flops onto the couch opposite Jaemin, kicking out at him and merely grinning when he whines even more. It’s the evening of the next day, and instead of Jaemin doing the last bits of his work catch-up, he beckoned Renjun into the living room with a dramatic text of _COME TO THE_ _LIVING ROOM IN_ _TEN_ _MINUTES WITH UR DS AND_ _ANIMAL CROSSING…. i have left over_ _party rings._ Renjun, of course, complies. 

“My town or yours?” Renjun asks, shuffling deeper in the couch as he turns his DS on.  

“Hmm. Have you touched yours in the last two weeks?” 

At Renjun’s dismissive shake of his head, Jaemin narrows his eyes. “Mine, then.” 

“Do I even have your friend code?” The other boy asks, as the opening screen music starts calmly trailing out between them. It kinda awkwardly meshes with Jaemin’s own DS sounds, but neither of them complain. 

“I should bloody hope so,” Jaemin grumbles, though at the quirk of Renjun’s lips, he can tell he’s only messing around. He chooses to loiter in the train station platform with Porter across the way until Renjun signals he’s ready, popping in a couple more party ring biscuits. “We played at the beginning of sem, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yeah, your hacked pitfall town _definitely_ was something to remember,” Renjun snorts, rolling his eyes as he waits to be let into Jaemin’s town.  

They play for a while, Jaemin wrangling Renjun into cleaning out his own town of weeds borne from too much time traveling explicitly for all of his tries at the bug-catching competitions of the season. It isn’t until Renjun starts talking to Blanche, Jaemin’s utmost favourite villager, over and over again with the explicit purpose of having her move to his town, that Jaemin blurts out what he _really_ wants to say finally. 

“Dude, can you—” Jaemin lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Can you relax, for like a second, you absolute homewrecker.” 

Renjun pauses from his wooing attempts.  

“You can’t get in the way of true love, buddy.” 

Jaemin startles slightly at the mention of ‘love’, because he is a baby who doesn’t know any better.  

“Hey, speaking of. Mind if I ask you something?” 

“Depends,” Renjun sing-songs, sounding painfully like Jungwoo. Jaemin narrows his eyes at his best friend over the lid of his game machine, ignoring the trilling music of K.K. Slider.  

“So, on the off chance that I have a friend who—uh, okay, not that,” Jaemin grumbles, an uncomfortable itch at the roof of his mouth. “So hypothetically, right? I have a hypothetical situation for you.” 

Renjun, curious, but ultimately unwilling to push him this time, remains silent, eyes heavy on Jaemin. He most definitely does not shrink back into himself.  

Renjun’s character enters the coffee house, sitting on the bar stool and fully subscribing to this roleplaying moment. Jaemin stammers for a few more seconds, before whipping his stylus out like a fountain pen, pulling up the conversation section of the menu and writing away. 

 

JAEMIN > ok 

JAEMIN > this is easier lol 

RENJUN > scandalous… 

JAEMIN > JDFKF enough. listen 

 

Jaemin’s character twists to face Renjun’s at their table, somehow completely seriously despite the fact it draws giggles out from Renjun like water; before returning to his quiet state, waiting for Jaemin to finally breach the subject of whatever he actually wants to say. 

 

JAEMIN > OK. 

JAEMIN > ITS COMIN….. 

JAEMIN > RENJUN I 

RENJUN > jaemin you . 

JAEMIN > jajsjsdjjejsjdjsjsjsjsjsjs. 

 

Jaemin lets out a sigh, wondering why the fuck this is so difficult. He promptly spams a bunch of emotes instead. 

 

JAEMIN > _Despair!_  

JAEMIN > _Despair_ _!_  

JAEMIN > _Despair!_  

JAEMIN > ok so how do u feel abt l 

 

The character limit cuts him off at the most apt time. He stomachs a groan. 

 

RENJUN > _Confused!_  

 

JAEMIN > love!!!! i’m talking abt l 

JAEMIN > love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

 

Renjun’s character kind of startles where his thumb twitches on the D-pad, and Jaemin doesn’t dare look up from the screen, instead choosing to pull the DS a little closer to his face so he can duck behind it. There’s a couple seconds silence, before Renjun leans forward on the couch, hand slight but firm pushing the game machine away from Jaemin’s face and down. He feels his neck heating up at the conversation he frankly does not want to have but some part of him knows it’s good in the long run. 

“Bro,” Renjun starts, completely stone faced, “it’s okay to have feelings, bro. We are communicating our feelings, bro…” 

Jaemin lets out the ugliest snort in his roster, hand coming to cover his mouth even though the laughs don’t stop coming. He places the DS down between the gap between his knee and the back of the leather sofa cushion, the laughs wracking him fading in the face of the fact he’s already half way in confessing about his apparent and official Donghyuck Feelings™ to his best friend.  

“So, I have something to say,” Jaemin starts, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip, “duh.” 

“Duh,” Renjun says plainly, brushing off the lint on his thighs. The great thing about Renjun — along with many, many others. The guy was a goddamn diamond — is even though he struggles with his own emotional processing issues, he’s never, ever managed to let Jaemin down in the two years he’s known him. Good egg, that one. 

“I,” Jaemin gulps, gathering the confidence, before finally getting around to say it. “I’m love Donghyuck. Like, I’m in love with Donghyuck, love Donghyuck. And I—” 

A brilliant smile spreads across Renjun’s face like the parting of reeds and the smaller boy surges forward to pull Jaemin into a stronghold he calls a hug, arms tightening around his neck and cutting him off. 

“FINALLY,” Renjun exclaims happily in his ear, shaking him a little. He pulls back and gripping Jaemin a little dazed, beaming. “I’m so proud of your dumbass. Like, genuinely.” 

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval,” Jaemin muses, grinning and finally feeling light. Along with Donghyuck (obviously), the two people he desperately wanted to come clean to were Renjun and Jeno.  

Renjun launches into a relieved tirade, about how he was so happy Jaemin had _finally gotten his head out of his own arse_ , and dramatically collapses back against the sofa, going on about how he could finally be laid to rest knowing he didn’t have to worry about Jaemin and Donghyuck anymore. Not because they could take care of each other, but rather they were two natural disasters enough alone, so existing together might cancel their idiocy out. 

Jaemin is touched nonetheless. 

 

* 

 

(EXT. CI-TECH, D-5 TO THE SHOWCASE) 

“Duh,” Jeno says simply, once Jaemin spontaneously confesses to him whilst they waited for Renjun and Chenle to meet them, the words seemingly bubbling up before he can actually stop them. They’re standing outside the Ci-Tech shopping center by the doors, a little chilly, with plans for the others to buy Donghyuck and Jisung something other than flowers for the showcase. (Jaemin was already eyeing a specific bouquet.) 

“DUH?” Jaemin squawks back, smacking at his arm and making Jeno whine and pull away in melodramatic fashion. 

“I thought you’d been in love since last New Year’s! I told you this, dude!” He exclaims, looking miffed. He rubs at his arm, moving away and making a noise not unlike a startled cat when Jaemin went for him again with the explicit purpose of pinching at him. 

“Yeah, well. Maybe so,” Jaemin grumbles as he looks away, conceding.  

Jeno’s bright smile is coupled with an elbow to his side, arms slipping around to squeeze the crook of his elbow briefly, grounding Jaemin a little.  

“Was that the wrong thing to say? I’m very happy for you, Nana. I hope you know that.” 

 

(INT. CI-TECH STARBUCKS, D-5 TO THE SHOWCASE) 

In the midst of their decisive shopping break, with Renjun taking practiced kicks at Jaemin’s ankles underneath their booth table whilst they wait for Jeno and Chenle to bring their drinks, the latter’s phone rings to the tune of FaceTime. 

MOCHISUNG ♡ flickers up on his phone, and Jaemin’s thumb swipes across the screen immediately. 

“My dearest little wallflower,” Jaemin croons, propping the phone against the napkin box on the corner so the inner camera captures both Renjun and Jaemin. Their nostrils look especially stunning in the small video in the top right of the screen. 

“Jaemin,” comes the crackle of Jisung’s nasally voice, because his mic is absolutely fucked, “Renjun, we just did three run-throughs of my solo alone and I think I’m gonna—” (cue deep breath) “—literally die?” 

“Ugh,” Jaemin says, hand over his chest with feeling. Renjun snorts at that. “I feel like a proud father. I’m so excited to see you!” 

“Mmmmffth,” Jisung says succinctly, trying to avoid the embarrassment as he ducks his head.  

“Hey,” Jaemin starts, still stuck on the high of telling his friends how he really feels. Jisung was the one who pushed him to make up with Donghyuck, or at least clear the air. But after a moment he pauses, smiling at the boy through the phone.  

He’s ultimately busy, focusing on the biggest first event of the season for him, and even though Jaemin desperately wants to be honest for once, it’s just not fair. Maybe he could tell Chenle and Jisung, together. Speaking of which, Chenle and Jeno start to wander over, each carrying trays of the drinks, and Jaemin decides to take his leave.  “Stay strong, kiddo. Text me later?” 

“Got you. Wish me luck,” he groans, forearm coming to wipe at his forehead. In the background, he hears someone high pitched make a rallying cry that sounds suspiciously familiar, and his thumb stutters on the END CALL button before he can properly say goodbye, in tune with his heart. 

 

* 

 

(EXT. OUTSIDE THE SU, D-2 TO THE SHOWCASE.) 

It isn’t until way closer to the showcase, do things starts to take a turn. 

“Yo, Jaemin!” 

Jaemin startles then, midday sun burning the back of his neck as he turns, lukewarm Diet Pepsi in his hand. It had been a few days since his shopping session with the rest of his friends, and as the showcase grew closer, so did more thoughts congealing towards what exactly he was going to say the moment he got to see Donghyuck.  

It’s been driving him crazy, especially regarding the fact he hadn’t seen him once if it wasn’t on someone’s Instagram story. Imagine literally living opposite a guy but not seeing him for an extended period of time. What a joke. 

So, the call out startles him out. No kidding. He’s been swimming in his own head the past few days. 

He turns, blinking owlishly at the light in his eyes, and sees Mark waving a little frantically.  Jaemin internally blanches but waves back regardless as Mark crosses the road. They’ve been out of sorts for a while, but he still is one of his closest friends. In the feat of Jaemin coming to terms with his feelings, he thinks it would be nice to talk to Mark properly again.  

“Mark,” Jaemin greets, smiling as the guy reaches him and gives him a one-armed hug, badminton racquet case slung across his back like a quiver. He’s in his full gym kit, broadness of his shoulders filling out his, on the smaller side, university hoodie. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m just headed to the court,” he says, jerking his thumb behind him to where Jaemin knows the fitness center resides. He pauses then, hands shoved in his pockets before he continues. “You free right now? You should come with, maybe.” 

Mark’s voice is tentative, and Jaemin can’t exactly blame him. Ever since his injury, even the thought of going back had been too rough for too long, weighing down on his heart from time to time like an stone. A strong part of him, not marred by the edge of trauma, or being held back, wants to return. A game, or two, nothing serious. He dedicated a lot of time to it, so to feel like he can’t return is… 

“I, uh,” Jaemin starts, hovering for a little, unsure. “I mean I don’t have my kit, and my racquet, so it’s like…” 

“Dude. Jaem,” Mark says, unimpressed and gesturing to Jaemin’s outfit. He looks down at himself, grimacing as he predicts what Mark is gonna say next. “You’re literally in a shirt and trackies right now. You’re good, if you wanna go that is. We could just borrow out of where the team store their stuff?” 

Jaemin pauses again, and Mark falters, finally. “Not that you have to. I don’t wanna pressure you, I just… Offers there, if you want in?” 

Mark is scratching at the back of his neck like a top-rate Anime character, looking sheepish, and Jaemin’s resolve hardens suddenly. 

“Screw it,” he says, small smile widening at Mark’s softening expression. “Let’s go.” 

 

It’s not until twenty minutes later, two games in and in the middle of their third, does Jaemin realise that maybe this was a mistake. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, heart beating fast as he runs to return Mark’s serve and only just swinging it back. Mark’s laugh rings out around the indoor court, empty apart from the two of them as he curves the racquet and drops the shuttlecock into his palm. 

“You’re keeping up well for a guy who hasn’t played in a while,” Mark says, smiling loftily through the net. Jaemin flexes his knee, stretching out a little before Mark wiggles the shuttlecock in his hand; throwing it up and taking a high arching serve that isn’t too fast. Jaemin lunges to more of the middle side of his half of the court, impeding it and slinging it back like a boomerang. 

“Well, you know,” Jaemin starts off a little smug, twirling his racquet, and squaring his shoulders a little,  “you’re talking to the finest Ace this court has ever seen, Mark Lee.” 

“Trust me,” Mark grits out, falling back in line to catch it and promptly failing. He slumps back to the ground, sliding a little like a sunbathing cat, grasping at his plastic water bottle and sipping. “I remember. Christ, you were the only one who could keep up with me, huh?” 

Jaemin is glad Mark takes a little break, because he’s started to feel a little ache in the crook behind his kneecap, and promptly wanders around the net to collapse gracefully on his front next to the older boy. 

“Tourney meets never had singles stars like us,” Jaemin muses, sipping at his own drink and turning his head to find Mark looking at him quietly. “What’s the matter?” 

“I missed this, you know.” 

Jaemin tilts his head slightly, if only to press his cheek to the cool floor just outside of the bright synthetic layers of pink and orange of the court. Mark looks sheepish, turning to look up at the high roof, instead of back to Jaemin’s gaze.  

“I don’t know,” he continues, “it’s just… ever since your injury it feels like we haven’t gelled together, you know? It’s my fault. It’s like — okay, it’s like I didn’t know how to talk to you when I was still carrying on with the team and you were going to rehab sessions every week. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore, even if I couldn’t stay much longer without you, I guess.” 

Mark sits up then, a knee drawn up. Jaemin remains silent.  

“We were close, we hung out a lot more last year, just us two than we do this semester, and it’s… It sucks. I miss you. And seeing you get closer to Donghyuck was tough, I guess? Not because I’m in — wait, that’s something else entirely. I just miss you, dude.” 

Jaemin doesn’t register the last part properly as he blinks, and blinks again. Part of his vision is cloudy, and he’s not entirely sure why as he stares mutely up at Mark, who immediately leans across and wipes away at his cheek. His thumb comes away wet.  

“Nooo, no, I can NOT handle tears,” Mark’s voice cracks in his panic, hands hovering, and only _then_ does Jaemin realise that he’s crying. He sits up, narrowly missing Mark as he touches underneath his eyes; disturbing more unshed tears to trail down his cheek. 

“Oh my god,” Jaemin murmurs, both a little in awe and just a few metres off from hysteric, “you made me cry. Mark Lee made me cry. I’m definitely tweeting this.” 

“Jaemin,” Mark whimpers, eyes glittering himself as he shuffles a little closer, “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I just — I missed you too. More than I expected. And I think that post my… well, my accident, my mind kind of associated you with all the shit I went through the past few months and it was… God, it was so hard, Mark.” 

Jaemin’s voice is wobbly, but it’s like a dam is breaking, and _fuck_ he needs to get this out. He wipes at his eye like a shy toddler, forearm dabbing at his face. “Badminton was my life. It wasn’t just mine, it was _our_ thing, you know? And it felt like… I couldn’t talk to you like we used to. It sucked.” 

“I know,” Mark almost whines, opening his arms in offering and letting out a quiet _oof_ as Jaemin barrels into him, crushing Mark’s body against his in a strong hug. “I was a shit friend. I’m sorry.” 

“No, _I’m_ sorry,” Jaemin wails, feeling Mark’s fingers bunch up in the back of his shirt. 

“Are we both sorry then?” Mark asks between wet laughs, sniffling. Jaemin echoes back his own laughter, feeling so much better than he has in the last two months after a simple conversation. They have their own pity party for a bit longer, before Jaemin pinches at Mark’s side to relinquish them from each other’s hold. Mark lets out a little protest, but draws back, scrubbing at his eye inconspicuously. 

“Hey,” Jaemin says, after he’s done doing the same, instead using his hands to fiddle with the shoelaces of Mark’s closest shoe. “I gotta tell you something, now we’re back to being the best of friends.” 

“Oh, go for it,” Mark laughs, a little low from how he got a little choked up. “I’m all ears.” 

“You mentioned Donghyuck, earlier. I haven’t been getting close to him because I wanted to get replace you, or whatever, but rather… ugh. I’m kind of in love with him? God it feels like, weirder every time I say that,” Jaemin groans, slapping a hand over his face and dragging. 

“Oh, thank God,” Mark breathes the biggest sigh of relief Jaemin has ever heard evacuate his lungs, hand clasping to his chest. Jaemin gives him a confused look, eyebrows furrowed and Mark’s expression promptly melts through to show an awkward lapse. 

“I mean, uh. Really? That’s great news! Front page, for sure,” Mark chuckles, forced. He reaches forward and claps him on the upper arm. “Nice one, dude.” 

“Okay, so are you gonna keep acting like the harried rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, or are you gonna tell me what’s up?” 

Mark blanches promptly at that, reaching up to scratch the side of his cheek. 

“I… okay, so I know something.”  

That wasn’t shocking considering that Mark and Donghyuck were close. Ridiculously so. Jaemin didn’t know who he (used to be?) jealous of more, actually. 

“I mean, I know a lot of things. Specifically, about Donghyuck, and _maybe_ concerning you, and I don’t want to like, you know. Ruin his privacy and all that, so I can’t TELL you those things, but I CAN say that… well. Whatever you’re planning, if you’re planning anything, will probably be received well.” 

Jaemin’s heart almost soars up and out of his chest at that. Almost, because well, he knows now. He knows the way that Donghyuck looks at him, the kisses they shared under the stars and the artificial lights, the way it feels like there’s an elastic band snapping them back together every time they try to part. He knows that all of that isn’t platonic. 

He knows that fate has had it in for them since they met, as dumb as it feels to construct those words in his head. 

Jaemin tries to tamp down on the smile spreading across his mouth but can’t, not really. He bubbles forward, hands braced against the floor between his crossed legs. 

“Really? Has he said anything? Oh, come onnnn.” 

“Noooope,” Mark laughs, pushing his face away and making Jaemin honest-to-god pout. “You know, I was worried. I think it might have started around that one New Year’s, maybe a bit before. But you’re such powerful, like… characters? Personalities? Not quite clashing, but so similar. I thought you were gonna break each other’s hearts.” 

Jaemin looks away then, sheepish. He doesn’t have to ask what “it” means. 

Before he can open his mouth, to agree or otherwise, Mark reaches out again and grips his shoulder. His thumb sweeps across, a comforting gesture.  

“But I’m happy for you. I’m happy for the both of you, you know? You’ve come so far. I hope that I can be there for you both in the future a bit better now,” Mark hums, looking sincere. “That’d be nice.” 

Jaemin ducks his head slightly. “So, I have your permission?” 

“What, am I his dad? Giving his him away at the alter?” 

“Yeah, something like that,” Jaemin laughs out loud and bright, and Mark joins in. He joins in, and Jaemin feels so, so fucking good. 

“So, what are you gonna do, then?” Mark asks then, looking interested. “Showcase is coming up.” 

“Trust me,” Jaemin says, pushing himself up carefully to stand and then holding out a hand for Mark. “I got a plan.” 

 

* 

 

(INT. JAEMIN’S ROOM, D-DAY OF THE SHOWCASE.) 

Now, whether he was willing to _execute_ the plan is an entirely different story. It’s rendering a lot of emotions, not just within Jaemin, but with all of their friends. He finally pushes himself to go get ready after Donghyuck sends him a lofty text, a simple _wish me luck?_ leaving Jaemin’s thumbs stutter on the keyboard.  

He sends back _good luck_ (灬╹ω╹灬) _can’t wait to see u!_ before casting his phone back into the black hole of copious amounts of clothes on his bed (next to the florists bag placed delicately) and melting in embarrassment.  

“JAEM,” Jeno calls from somewhere in the hallway, startling him slightly from down the hall, “remember that the taxi is coming soon!” 

“I’M NOT READY,” Jaemin yells back with feeling, “AND I’M GOING TO DIE.” 

It takes Mark coming in to strong-arm him into picking an outfit, in which he finally settles for a light sweater vest over a button up. He ruins the formal look with a pair of detailed and busy trainers, before finally letting his friends drag him out of his room, phone and bag gripped firmly in his hands. 

They coo at that when he enters the kitchen to wait for the taxi, at Jaemin’s formal-casual, at his flowers and the perpetual nervous smile glued to his face. 

Renjun grabs Jaemin’s by shoulders, squeezes once and tells him not to fuck up before slipping out of the door to go meet someone else in advance. Jaemin tries to get him to stay, gripping the older boy’s arm by squeezing it between two of his own, but it doesn’t work out to Jaemin’s utter betrayal.  

“I’ll pick up Chenle with Yukhei and Jungwoo, and meet you by the doors, okay?” Renjun says, waving behind him and ignoring the way Jaemin narrows his eyes at the mention of Yukhei. “You got this, champ. Don’t forget about the flowers though.” 

“Ugh,” Jaemin murmurs, “I think the back of my neck is sweating. Is that even possible?” 

“You got this, bud,” Mark reaches over and attempts to ruffle up carefully styled hair. Jaemin can only hope. 

 

The taxi ride is long. Jaemin chatters the ear off of everyone in the car, including the cab driver in the short trip over, and they let him. When they arrive, Jaemin feels his nervous sense of giddiness threatening to spill over the moment they step out of the car. He hasn’t seen Donghyuck in weeks, not since their movie date (???), and he’s.  

Well. He’s gonna confess. This is it. 

The big moment.  

The thought of it makes Jaemin want to crumble.  

“I don’t think I can do it, you know,” Jaemin starts, as they all usher him into the spacious foyer where a lot of the people within are already beginning to filter into the main hall.  

“You’re kidding,” a voice says from a little ways away from them. Jaemin looks up, to see Chenle beaming wide, in a sweater that’s swallowing him. “Renjun told me in the ride up about your love troubles. I’m so excited!” 

“Shut uuuup,” Jaemin sighs back to the first year, before spotting Mina and Chaeyoung a little farther away, nudging Mark and directing him their way. He’s about to look away at whine again like an unsupervised toddler, but he catches the eye of Jungwoo and waves.  

Behind him, he spies Renjun and Yukhei, the two distracted within themselves as Renjun reaches up and corrects the other boy’s spectacularly designed bowtie. Yukhei looks down with a hand loosely curled around Renjun’s wrist, something tender in his expression, and Jaemin’s jaw drops. “Wait, when did this happen?” He asks, as Jungwoo approaches them. He looks a lot more well rested, and Jaemin finds himself smiling at that. 

“He manned up,” Jungwoo shrugged, simple as that. Jaemin thought back to that fateful New Year’s party, to the nights out when Yukhei and Renjun had skated around each other only to end up right back next to each other, to the times where he’d disappear on ahead just to see Yukhei and honestly, he should’ve seen it coming. “Now it’s all on you, big guy.” 

They all slowly file in, Jaemin clutching at his flower bouquet for dear life as they slide into their reserved seats on the second row, left-hand side. He thinks he sees Yerim in the wings glancing out into the crowd, a flurry of glitter and stage outfits, as she turns off and disappears backstage.  

Once they sit down, Jaemin sandwiched between Jeno and Mark, with Hyunjin turning around every few moments to gush about how excited she is in the row in front, Jaemin settles his flowers down under his chair and lets out the big kind of sigh that shakes at his ribcage. The audience has filled out, supervising staff and some teaches along the sides and back of the venue, and even though it’s not an entirely large hall, the turnout is incredible. 

It doesn’t take long, with Jaemin’s fingers drumming on his thigh and knee jittering so hard that Jeno has to clamp it down, until the house lights die down and Jaemin’s whole world is rocked. 

That’s a little cringe-worthy. He gets it. (Trust me, he does.) But, along with the fluid movements of the whole team coming onto the stage, and winding and twisting to the beat of the music that’s filling the whole hall up so easily, he’s stunned. Donghyuck’s position is a little far from them like they had sussed out during the setting up of the hall, but he can still see him through the gaps of the people performing, in Jaemin’s line of sight; can still see the grin Donghyuck tries to tamp down on whilst he performs. They’re all in a mix of makeup looks, but it somehow works. 

The [next performance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lfas6oNWfAw) consists of a good chunk of the girls. They’re in the same loose clothing from before, makeup differing from strong to light at times indicating the stages to come, but Jaemin finds himself getting lost in the choreography once again. The mix of the contemporary, tap-dance like foot sweeps and the way they hit the beat renders a lot of cheers from the crowd the moment it’s done. It’s shorter than they expected, and Jaemin finds himself genuinely wanting to see more.  

Following the girls, comes the boys and a flurry of other performances. Donghyuck takes more of a central role, and Jaemin swears their eyes meet before the baseline of the song hits. Jisung has [his solo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phgE5ERJ6JA), rendering the rest of them wailing like proud parents at their kid’s first pageant. Chenle, of course, is the loudest. The song is smoother than they expected, one of Jaemin’s favourites, but the moves are sharp in Jisung’s tell-tale style and the sharp line of his gaze the moment he looks over his shoulder makes everyone take a collective intake of breath.  

Of course, after Jisung’s fantastic display, Jaemin isn’t expecting Donghyuck to [take the stage](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UuNzXfDIjzw) with his back to the crowd, Yerim facing him. The crowd lets out a cheer, Jaemin a little late to it because he’s too stunned, but he thinks he hears a couple people backstage yell cheers of encouragement. The reason he’s shocked, and how he’s mirroring every single one of his friends around him, is purely down to the fact that nobody knows how in God’s name the two of them, or _Jisung_ even, managed to keep this a secret.  

Yerim’s hand is on his shoulder, dragging across as she steps forward to the pre-beat to stand next to him. The makeup suddenly makes sense as the vocal harmonization of the intro music begins. A red lip, coupled with glitter under the eyes and a faded out, dark outer corner. Her outfit, along with Donghyuck’s, is all black, high-waisted jeans with a single silver chain hooked from one belt loop to another. 

Donghyuck’s outfit is equally as simple, his favourite dark jeans accompanied with a tucked in black shirt with writing in a deep red on the front. He has a matching chain, and Jaemin feels a prickle of something at the back of his neck as he notices that little detail.  

Donghyuck is a single ray of light in the dark hall the moment the song kicks in, Jaemin thinks. His under-eyes twinkle, too. He feels bad immediately, because Yerim is incredible too, and it’s so refreshing to see how far they’ve progressed since their first year. Jaemin struggled to attend any showcases, but any performances he was free for he tried his absolute hardest to attend, along with obnoxious signs and all.  

The steps, and the arm movements are synchronised perfectly, as if they were of one mind. The best thing is, they were having fun with it, too. There was an air of mystery, of _something_ before the song started, but the way Donghyuck smiles bright like the sun as he revolves around Yerim — the way she smiles back, a little softer but still toothy as they continue the routine. Initially you’d think it was a sad song, but as it continues it’s almost like an anthem of letting go. Jaemin finds himself captivated the entire stage. 

When they finish, sliding to the side and collapsing into each other in a half hug, Jaemin is the first to cheer with all of his heart. He’s closely followed by his friends and the rest of the room, but Jaemin only has eyes for Donghyuck. 

This time, Donghyuck _definitely_ looks over, chest heaving but looking radiant. It only makes Jaemin cheer harder.  

Afterwards, there are various units and solo stages popping up throughout, Jaemin gets to relish the fact he actually gets to see Sicheng curve through the stage lights in a contemporary solo, to see Jieqiong skate through an upbeat routine to a Pharrell track.  

The ending is nothing short of phenomenal. As the team, a few at a time, file onto the stage to a [smooth track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sDLsSQf3Hc0) whose hook sticks in Jaemin’s head like honey. They’re in white shirts with the university name on the back, and if Jaemin squints he can make out their each individual names or nicknames engraved in the light blue of the university’s colours.  

The melody they’re dancing to this time is sweet, simple, and so is the dance; a nice way to encapsulate the way everyone’s style melds in with each other’s despite everyone being so different. He knows for a fact that Sicheng is classically trained, that Jisung grew up on ballet classes yet chose to morph his style of dance with so many others.  

 _It’s nice,_ Jaemin thinks as Heejin winds around Yerim, as Donghyuck takes Jisung’s hand and pulls him close. As Jieqiong grins so brilliant, as Sujeong spins with each turn like a wave of music. In that moment, even though he’s been hyper-focusing on Donghyuck throughout the entire show as much as he could, he finds himself enraptured by every single person up there.  

It must feel so good to work hard on something and for it to be pulled off flawlessly by the rest of the team. He feels a little melancholic, slips a little, when he remembers how he _did_ have that. How nice it was to have a hobby he could invest his whole time in and do as such with Mark, and the rest of his friends. He doesn’t chase that thought, not allowing himself to get sad at this moment in time.  

Besides, the only thing truly stopping him from reconnecting with that part of his life was himself. His injury too, sure, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t dip his foot back into the recreational aspect of the scene.  

And seeing Donghyuck shine on stage with all of his teammates after all of his late nights and rehearsals was like liquid gold. 

When they finish up, Yeonjung taking centre to blow a scatter of silver dust and confetti into the crowd, the audience bursts with applause. Renjun is one of the first to start, but Jaemin isn’t far behind, leading to a good chunk of the spectators among them following. They all take turns to do exaggerated bows, or curtsies, and when Jisung and Donghyuck come up respectively, Jaemin and the rest of his friends let out the loudest cacophony of cheers they can muster.  

“Holy shit,” Jaemin mutters, as they start to wander out to wait in the lobby again. Mark pats at his shoulder, but all Jaemin can do is try again, with vehement feeling. “No, but like, holy _shit_.” 

“He kept that duo quiet!” Yukhei exclaims, gesticulating with his hands with how animated he’s speaking.  

“And Jisung’s _solo_ ,” Jeno exclaims, hitting Renjun’s back in tune to the amount of syllables falling out of his mouth. Renjun twists back to flick at his ear before winding an arm around Yukhei’s waist, as they all slowly gather near a spot in the off-centre of the room. 

They spot their dancer friends begin to trail out of the main hall, still in their encore outfits, and everyone waiting lets a resounding amount of cheer. They look bashful as they enter, splitting off once they spot their friends. Jisung and Donghyuck are some of the last to arrive in the foyer, hand in hand, looking around in excitement to find their friends. 

The others call out to them, frantically and annoying, drawing the attention to everyone who hasn’t filtered out of the building yet. Jisung whips around, quickest on his feet and dragging Donghyuck across the floor to meet their friends. 

“Guys!” Donghyuck gasps out, cheeks still a little flushed and stumbling into Jisung a little when he comes to a halt. “Did you guys enjoy it?” 

The rest of them crowd around them, with Chenle squeezing the life out of Jisung through the medium and Mark ruffling the back of Donghyuck’s hair. Jaemin hangs back, just overwhelmed. 

This guy… how could he ever see him any different than in the rose-tinted goggles he had on now, the bashful smile, the way his hands clasp around the little bags his friends had given him. 

He’s enamoured. 

The flowers feel heavy in his hands, bag long discarded by his feet, and only serve to get heavier when Yukhei and Jeno part in front of him, Donghyuck looking through. 

The air seems to change then. There he is, staring at the boy he loves, where everyone around him can read his heart and knows how the fuck he feels. And that’s some kind of wonderful character development, he thinks. 

“Hey,” Donghyuck starts with a small smile. The rest of them are quiet, and the way Donghyuck is looking at him is almost sending Jaemin into cardiac arrest. “Uh, so, what did you think?” 

 

WWJD? (What Would Jaemin Do?) 

  1. Kiss him. 


  1. KISS. HIM. 


  1. KISS THE BOY!!! 



(LEVEL UP!)

 

“Fuck, those are big,” he carries on, nervously as his eyes dart from Jaemin’s to the flowers clenched in his hand. “I definitely don’t have a something big enough to shove them in— _mmfph?!_ ”  

A collective of things happen, in that moment. 

  1. Jaemin shoves the deep red roses that he so painstakingly chose earlier that day at Renjun’s chest. 
  2. He steps forward, determined, with purpose. 
  3. The moment he reaches the nervous looking boy, be braces his hands on the sides of Donghyuck’s neck, and pulls him close. 



The slide of his mouth against Donghyuck’s is soft, easy. Jaemin briefly registers obnoxious cheers from around them the moment they collide and he tries not to smile against the kiss the moment Donghyuck holds his waist, the metaphorical dam breaking. His neck feels warm against his hands, thumbs skipping over pulse points that jump. It’s short, fleeting, but the burst of empathic feeling floating around him clouds his head.  

“Wait, shit,” Jaemin mumbles half against Donghyuck’s mouth, pulling off suddenly, nose tips brushing, “I’m not stealing your moment, am I?” 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. You totally are,” Donghyuck grins sharply, pressing another kiss to the embarrassed twist of Jaemin’s mouth. His cheeks are still flushed, but for a different reason entirely. “But, it’s okay. I was waiting for this.” 

There’s still a smudge of glitter caught between his lower lashes. 

Jaemin looks behind him, and catches his friends now trying desperately to pretend they’re not trying to listen in on every detail. He lets out a huff of air, but can’t find it within himself to be annoyed. He turns back, and finds Donghyuck staring. Staring and smiling so, so lovingly. 

“You were waiting for this, huh?” Jaemin asks with a wry smile, desperately wanting any more information. His thumb brushes over the side of his neck, the faint bump of his tendon and Donghyuck ever so slightly tilts into it. 

“Of course I was, you _idiot_ ,” he says, pinching a random part of his lower back and making Jaemin momentarily flail. “I’ve been… well, you know.” 

Jaemin snorts at that, masking the fact his heart is fluttering over what he thinks he’s about to say. “I know?” 

“I… may or may not… possibly like,” Donghyuck stammers over his words, averting his gaze with a wobbly smile, “like you more than I’m letting on.” 

“Wellllllll,” Jaemin drawls out, trying to stifle his giddiness, reaching up to brush a stray part of his fringe behind his ear. He fails almost immediately, ducking in a little closer. “Really?” 

The way he says it is a little lower, completely sincere and endearing. Donghyuck’s grin spills across his mouth, and Jaemin leans forward and presses a light kiss to his lips again, despite hearing Renjun complain about _egregious PDA_ , like he wasn’t the guy with his hand down the back pocket of Yukhei’s jeans earlier. 

“You’re like a magnet,” Donghyuck murmurs, a sheen on his lower lip. “It’s maddening.” 

A pleasant feeling runs through him again, like a hit from a drug. It takes him a little while to figure out that’s love. 

“I love you, Donghyuck, you colossal dork,” Jaemin says, with feeling, and watching as Donghyuck turns red. “Who uses a phrase like that in daily life? Nerd. Total nerd. I love it so much, I’ll die.” 

“Stoooop,” Donghyuck whines, ducking his head and hiding his face from Jaemin’s annoying smile. The hairs on the crown of his head tickle at his chin.

“What are you playing at, hiding something so pretty from me?” Jaemin murmurs, pulling back to try and make him catch his eye.  

Donghyuck looks up with a screwed up face, and promptly tells him, “You’re gonna be the death of me, god.” 

“Now we’re both away of our terribly big, gay feelings for each other, I’m not sure I’ll be happy if you die _so_ soon. Lemme at least get you to sign a pre-nup, yeah?” 

“You get my shoes. That’s all you need out of my belongings.” 

Jaemin coos at that, reaching up and pinching at his cheek. “You know me.” 

“Sadly.” 

“You love me.” 

“Regretfully.” 

“You _love_ me,” Jaemin repeats with feeling, breath caught, a little bit of awe dappled in his tone.

“Oi,” Renjun calls, making the two of them turn as he approaches them. Jaemin, obnoxious and in love, winds his arms around Donghyuck’s neck and pulls him close despite the other boy’s adorable tsundere complaints. His cheek squishes against the older boy’s, and he looks like Renjun has singlehandedly ruffled all of his feathers. 

“We’re busy,” Jaemin replies, a little garbled from his weird position.  

“Let’s go be busy at the afterparty at Sicheng’s, please.” 

Oh. Jaemin forgot about that. Frankly, he was happy stealing Donghyuck away to go romantically share a pasta dish á la Lady and the Tramp at the SU, the rest of them be damned. He pulls back, letting Donghyuck go finally, and Donghyuck mimics a big sigh of relief with a hand to his chest. 

“Flowers please, dear,” Jaemin says sweetly to Renjun, ignoring his look of pure death. He doesn’t slam the flowers in to his chest, but gently hands them off, before pinching his arm and floating away to join their friends before Jaemin can complain again.  

Jaemin turns, trying to rub his arm before handing them out to Donghyuck as an offering. ”I know last years were prettier and had a cooler meaning, but this is just ‘coz I love you. And that’s probably… better, I think?” 

The bouquet is pretty in itself. Eight roses of deep red in a sweet pink wrapping. Donghyuck takes it gently, like he's afraid a simple touch will let them break away kind of in awe of the whole thing. 

“Jaem, you dumb idiot,” he whines, cradling it gently to his front and looking up with wide eyes . “They’re beautiful.” 

“That was a good chunk of my student loan so I _hope_ you’re impressed,” Jaemin jokes, nervousness slowly building again. “Joking. Duh. I just... I'm sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my arse, you know that, right? You deserve so much more than this but I hope I can be better. You're so worth it, Donghyuck.” 

Donghyuck tries, and ultimately fails not to outwardly melt every time Jaemin opens his mouth, before reaching out and cupping Jaemin's cheek. Jaemin looks  at him, eyes a little wide, as Donghyuck simply stares at him for a moment.

"This is... all I've ever wanted, actually," he starts, an almost sad glimmer in his eyes. "Ever since New Year's. Well, actually... ever since we met, if we're being honest. I've cried over you not liking me back when I was drunk and stupid too many times, so when we kissed it felt like a total dream, you know?" His thumb sweeps across Jaemin's cheekbone in a rhythmic fashion, and Jaemin's hand comes up to hold his elbow lightly, before he continues. "And then after _that_ night out, I just... I didn't think you would ever... like me back."

"Since we met? Really?" He blinks, mouth dropping open slightly. The fact that someone like Donghyuck had been pining over him for oh so long makes it feel like his ribcage is being squeezed. Donghyuck's mouth twists, and he looks away before seeming to steel himself and looking back. There's a sharp quality now to his gaze, and he nods. "God, I've been a complete and utter idiot, haven't I?"

"Kinda," Donghyuck smiles, hand sliding off of his face and the urge to kiss him again and again pulls at Jaemin's heart. "But that's okay. I love you, so. It's whatever."

Jaemin snorts at that, the corners of his mouth twisting up. He then looks past his boyfriend (????!!??!) and sees that his friends are starting to file out, casting quiet and warm glances back at the two of them every so often. 

He sees Mark, and relishes in the fact they’ve repaired their relationship. He sees Renjun looking up at Yukhei’s profile as he chats with Jeno and Jungwoo, a tender twist to his mouth. Chenle and Jisung with their heads bent together; Jisung feeling comfortable enough to hold hands with his boyfriend in public. He sees all of this and his heart feels like it’s about to burst. Because he loves his friends, he does, and he doesn’t think that anything over the past few months that had happened would have happened without them. 

“Hey,” Donghyuck’s amused tone knocks him out of his musings, looking him with the hand not clutching at his roses extended out to him. Jaemin smiles, briefly thanking whatever guardian of fate put them on this ridiculous journey in his head. “You coming, then?” 

Jaemin, as always, does. 

(YOU WIN!) 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you once again, everyone. hope you enjoyed!  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/dongjaems).  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/nahei).
> 
> ♡ amy


End file.
